FRANK 


STAN  DISH 


S.  EDWIN  CORLE,  JR. 

HIS   BOOK 


• 


FRANK   MERRIWELL'S  CHAMPIONS 


1  Let  me  go,  I  tell  you  !    I'll  pound  the  face  off  him  !"    (See  page  12) 


FRANK  MERRIWELL'S 
CHAMPIONS 


BURT  L.  STANDISH 

AUTHOR  OF 

"Frank  Merriwell's  Schooldays,"  "  Frank  Merriwell's  Trip  West." 

"Frank  Merriwell's  Chums,"  "  Frank  Merriwell's  Foes," 

"  Frank  Merriwell  Down  South,"  etc. 


PHILADELPHIA 

DAVID  McKAY,   PUBLISHER 

604-8  SOUTH  WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


Copyright,  1904 
By  STREET  &  SMITH 


PMBk  Merriwell' s  ChunpiOM 


CONTENTS 


oumi 


I — Frank  and  His  Friends       .        .   ~~~,  ~~    .        7 

II — The  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club  .          13 

III— Shooting  at  the  Disk  of  Gold      ...      24 

IV — Bruce  Browning's  Adventure         .        .          32 

V — Hammond's  Plot 42 

VI — Nell  Returns  a  Kindness         ...  51 

VII— By  the  Waters  of  Lake  Lily        ...      56 

VIII — A  Fair  Guide 65 

IX— The  Valiant  Dutch  Boy      .        .        .        .76 

X— Nell's  Letter 86 

XI — A  Traitor  and  a  Spy 90 

XII — Harlow's  Discomfiture  ....         102 
XIII— Against  Odds     .        .        .        .        .        .112 

XIV— Frank  and  Elsie 122 

XV — A  Boxing  Match 133 

XVI— The  Club  Meeting 140 

XVII— The  Eight-oar  Shell 149 

XVIII— The  Race 160 

XIX — A  Rescue  on  the  Road       .        .        .        .170 


ii  CONTENTS 


FAGS 


XX — At  Springbrook  Farm       .        .        .  180 

XXI — Two  Encounters    .        .        .        .  .186 

XXII — Hans  Uses  the  Hose  .        .        .        .  195 

XXIII — Choice  of  Ponies 204 

XXIV— The  First  Go     .        .        ...  212 

XX  V— The  End  of  the  Game    .        .        .  .218 

XXVI— Before  the  Hunt     .   .        .        .        .  225 

XXVII— The  Hunt      .        .        .        .        .  ,232 

XXVIII — A  Change  of  Scene    .        .        .        .  243 

XXIX— Frank  Meets  Defeat       .        .        .  .246 

XXX — Frank  Expresses  His  Opinion    .        .  258 

XXXI— The  First  Blow      .        .      /  > ;      *•  .     265 

XXXII— A  Surprise  Party        .        , % :     ...       .  274 

XXXIII— A  Girl's  Remorse                    .        .  .     284 

XXXIV— A  Fight  Against  Odds       .      >        .  292 

XXXV— Merri  well's  Close  Call    .        ,        .  .298 

XXXVI — An  Explosion  Coming       .        .        .  306 

XXXVII— The  Last  Blow— Conclusion  .        .  .314 


FRANK  MERRIWELL'S  CHAMPIONS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

FRANK   AND   HIS   FRIENDS. 

Ping!  pang!  crash! 

Frank  Merriwell,  making  a  sharp  turn  in  a  narrow 
mountain  path,  felt  his  bicycle  strike  something 
which  gave  under  his  weight  with  a  snapping,  musical 
sound,  and  almost  precipitated  him  ever  the  handle 
bars  of  his  machine. 

Bart  Hodge,  who  was  close  behind,  checked  him- 
self with  difficulty,  and  sang  out : 

"What's  wrong,  Frank?" 

"Smashed  a  music  box,  I  guess,"  answered  Frank, 
leaping  down  and  coming  back. 

In  single  file  behind  Frank  Merriwell  and  his  chum, 
Bart  Hodge,  came  the  other  members  of  the  bicycle 
party — fat  and  lazy  Bruce  Browning;  the  gallant  Vir- 
ginian, Jack  Diamond;  merry-hearted  Harry  Rattle- 
ton;  the  Yankee  youth,  Ephraim  Gallup;  the  Dutch 
boy,  Hans  Dunnerwust;  the  lad  with  Irish  blood  in 
his  veins  and  a  brogue  to  boot,  Barney  Mulloy,  and 
Toots,  the  colored  boy,  who  when  at  home  worked 
the  Merriwell  homestead. 


B  Frank  and  His  Friends. 

In  the  previous  volumes  of  this  series  we  have  re- 
lated how  Frank  and  his  Yale  chums  started  out  from 
xdlege  for  a  tour  on  wheels  to  San  Francisco.  This 
great  journey  was  safely  accomplished,  and  now  the 
boys  were  on  their  way  to  the  East  once  more.  They 
had  journeyed  in  various  ways  through  California, 
Texas,  Missouri,  Kentucky  and  other  States,  and  had 
now  reached  the  mountain  region  in  the  southwestern 
part  of  Virginia.  They  had  left  the  railroad  at  the 
entrance  to  the  valley,  and  were  now  journeying  by 
a  little-used  path  to  the  pretty  little  summer  resort  of 
Glendale,  situated  by  the  side  of  a  lake  near  the  top 
of  the  Blue  Ridge  range. 

A  view  of  Glendale  and  the  lake,  which  was  known 
as  Lake  Lily,  had  been  given  them  a  minute  before, 
at  the  top  of  a  rise,  as  they  were  about  to  plunge  into 
the  bit  of  woodland,  where  the  path  made  its  short 
turn  and  brought  to  Merriwell  the  accident  just  men- 
tioned. 

The  attractiveness  of  the  view  was  not  lessened  to 
Frank  Merriwell  and  his  friends  by  the  rustic  cottages 
stretching  along  the  shores  of  the  lake  and  the  flag 
that  floated  above  them,  proclaiming  the  place  the 
summer  camp  of  the  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club. 

'It's  a  violin,"  Frank  regretfully  announced,  pick- 
ing up  the  instrument  that  had  been  crushed  by  his 
•wheel  and  holding  it  for  the  others  to  see.  "I 


His  words  were  checked  by  a  movement  in  the 
bushes,  and  a  youth  of  nineteen  or  twenty  pushed 
himself  into  view.  He  wore  an  outing  suit  of  blue 


Frank  and  His  Friends.  9 

flannel,  and  a  white  straw  hat  that  well  became  him 
rested  on  his  abundant  brown  hair.  He  was  tall  and 
straight  as  a  pine,  with  a  dark  face  that  might  have 
been  pleasant  in  repose,  but  was  now  distorted  by 
anger. 

"You  did  that !"  he  cried,  facing  Merriwell.  "That 
is  my  violin,  and  you  have  crushed  and  ruined  it.  What 
business  had  you  coming  up  this  path,  anyhow  ?  This 
is  a  private  path!" 

"If  this  is  your  violin,  I  must  confess  that  I  seem  to 
have  damaged  it  pretty  badly,"  returned  Merriwell,  re- 
taining his  composure,  in  spite  of  the  biting  tone  in 
which  he  was  addressed.  "As  to  the  path  being  a  pri- 
vate one,  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  At  any  rate,  I  did 
not  run  into  your  violin  on  purpose.  It  occurs  to  me 
that  a  path  such  as  this,  whether  it  is  public  or  private, 
is  not  a  place  where  one  expects  to  come  on  musical  in- 
struments, and  that  you  are  somewhat  to  blame  for 
placing  it  there.  However,  I  assure  you  I  am " 

"You  will  pay  for  the  violin,  and  a  good  round  sum, 
too!"  asserted  the  youth,  doubling  up  his  fists  and  ad- 
vancing toward  Frank,  who  stood  beside  his  wheel, 
holding  the  broken  instrument.  "This  woodland  be- 
longs to  my  father,  and  no  one  has  a  right  to  come  up 
the  path  except  members  of  our  club.  If  you  hadn't 
been  trespassing,  you  wouldn't  have  run  into  the 
violin!" 

"I  was  going  to  assure  you  of  my  regret  at  having 
damaged  the  instrument,  and  of  course  I  am  willing  to 
do  whatever  is  right  to  make  good  your  loss,"  Merri- 
well continued,  smiling  lightly  and  deceptively.  "But 


lo  Frank  and  His  Friends. 

I  still  insist  that  a  place  like  this  is  no  spot  for  you  or 
any  one  else  to  leave  a  violin.  I  presume  you  speak  of 
the  athletic  club  down  by  the  lake?" 

The  youth's  face  showed  scorn  now,  as  well  as  anger. 

"Those  Lily  whites?  Not  on  your  life  I  don't!  I 
was  speaking  of  the  Blue  Mountain  Athletic  Club.  Our 
cottages  are  right  back  here  among  the  trees.  You  can 
see  them  from  that  bend.  As  for  the  violin,  I  was 
playing  it  a  while  ago,  and  jumped  and  left  it  here  when 
one  of  the  boys  called  me,  expecting  to  come  back  in  a 
minute " 

Again  there  was  a  movement  in  the  bushes,  with  the 
sound  of  hurrying  feet,  and  a  voice  shouted : 

"Hello,  Hammond!     What's  the  matter  out  there?" 

Then  half  a  dozen  boys,  attired  like  the  owner  of 
the  violin,  hurried  into  view. 

Merriwell's  friends  crowded  closer  to  him  when  they 
saw  this  array  of  force,  and  Rattleton  was  heard  to 
mutter  something  about  Frank's  punching  the  violin- 
ist's head. 

"I  don't  think  there  is  any  need  of  a  quarrel  here," 
declared  Jack  Diamond,  pushing  forward.  "Here,  you 
fellows !  I've  been  bragging  all  day  to  Merriwell  and 
my  other  friends  about  the  big-heartedness  of  the  peo- 
ple of  Virginia.  I'm  a  Virginian  myself,  and  I  be- 
lieved what  I  said.  I  hope  you  won't  insist  on  doing 
anything  that  will  make  me  want  to  eat  my  words !" 

The  statement  was  not  without  effect. 

"He  must  pay  me  for  the  violin!"  growled  Ham- 
mond. "I  can't  afford  to  have  an  instrument  like  that 
smashed  into  kindling,  and  just  let  it  go  at  that.  As 


Frank  and  His  Friends.  n 

ior  this  land,  it  is  my  father's,  and  very  few  people  be- 
sides members  of  our  dub  go  along  the  path." 

"Then  the  path  is  not  wholly  private?"  queried 
Frank.  "I  am  glad  to  know  that." 

"And  he  as  good  as  said  he  was  to  blame  for  leaving 
the  thing  where  he  did!"  exclaimed  Harry  Rattleton. 
"I  don't  think  he  is  entitled  to  a  cent." 

"Come,  come!"  begged  Diamond,  again  assuming  the 
part  of  peacemaker,  though  he  was  raging  inwardly  at 
the  belligerent  Virginia  boys.  "We  expect  to  stop  a 
few  days  in  Glendale,  and  we  can't  afford  to  be  any- 
thing but  your  friends,  you  know.  What  is  the  violin 
worth?" 

''A  hundred  dollars !"  Hammond  announced,  though 
in  reality  the  instrument  had  cost  him  only  twenty.  "I 
doubt  if  I  could  get  another  as  good  for  double  that 
sum." 

"I  don't  want  to  quarrel  with  you,"  said  Merriwell, 
"and  I  won't,  unless  I'm  driven  to  it.  I'm  willing  to 
settle  this  thing  in  one  way,  and  in  one  way  only.  We 
will  pick  three  disinterested  persons  who  know  some- 
thing about  violins.  Let  them  set  a  value  on  the  in- 
strument You  stand  half  the  loss  for  carelessly  leav- 
ing it  in  a  path  which,  by  your  admission,  is  not  wholly 
private,  and  I  will  stand  the  other  half  for  what  I  did." 

"Thot's  talk,  Merry,  me  b'y!"  shouted  Barney  Mul- 
loy,  who  was  itching  for  a  "scrap"  with  these  campers. 

Hammond  gave  Barney  a  quick  glance  of  hate. 

"I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  asserted,  turning 
again  to  Frank.  "You  pay  me  a  hundred  dollars,  or 
I'll  have  it  out  of  your  hide !" 


I  a  Frank  and  His  Friends. 

"Oh,  you  will,  will  you?"  said  Merriwell,  facing 
him,  and  laughing  lightly.  "Jump  right  in,  whenever 
you  are  ready  to  begin !" 

One  of  Hammond's  followers,  seeing  that,  in  spite 
of  the  lightness  of  his  manner,  Frank  Merriwell  meant 
to  fight,  caught  Hammond  by  the  shoulders  and  drew 
him  back. 

"Let  me  at  him !"  cried  Hammond,  becoming  furious 
in  an  instant,  and  making  a  seeming  attempt  to  break 
away  from  his  friend.  "Let  me  go,  I  tell  you!  I'll 
pound  the  face  off  him !" 

"Let  him  go,  as  he  is  so  anxious!"  laughed  Merri- 
well. "I'm  willing  he  shall  begin  the  pounding  at 
once." 

At  this,  another  of  Hammond's  friends  took  hold  of 
him,  not  liking  the  looks  of  Merriwell's  backers,  and 
the  two  began  to  force  the  enraged  lad  through  the 
screen  of  bushes  in  the  direction  of  the  invisible  camp. 

"Here  is  his  violin,"  said  Merriwell,  tossing  it  after 
them.  "I  am  sorry  I  ran  into  it,  and  am  willing  to  do 
whatever  is  fair.  When  he  is  in  the  same  frame  of 
mind,  let  him  come  down  to  the  hotel  at  the  village,  and 
we  will  try  to  talk  the  thing  over  amicably.  I  will  be 
his  friend,  if  he  will  let  me ;  or  his  enemy,  if  he  prefers 
it  that  way!" 


CHAPTER  H. 

THE    LAKE    LILY    ATHLETIC    CLUB. 

Frank  Merriwell's  party  was  scarcely  installed  in  the 
Blue  Ridge  Hotel  when  two  visitors  were  announced. 
They  proved  to  be  a  delegation  from  the  Lake  Lily 
Athletic  Club. 

"We  heard  of  your  arrival  only  a  little  while  ago, 
and  we  came  straight  up,"  said  one,  speaking  to  Merri- 
well,  who  had  risen  from  his  piazza,  chair  to  greet  them, 
"My  name  is  Septimus  Colson — Sep  for  short — and 
this  is  my  friend,  Philip  Tetlow." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Colson — and  you, 
Mr.  Tetlow,"  answered  Merriwell,  who  then  proceeded 
to  introduce  himself  and  his  friends  to  the  callers. 

Colson  and  Tetlow  were  sunburned  youths  of  seven- 
teen or  eighteen — keen-looking,  intelligent  fellows,  at- 
tired in  outing  suits. 

"You'll  excuse  us  for  the  call,"  begged  Colson,  "but 
you  see  it's  this  way :  We've  got  those  cottages  down 
there,  with  the  flag  flying  over  them,  and  hardly  any- 
body in  them.  The  cottages  aren't  much  to  brag  of  in 
the  way  of  looks,  but  they  are  comfortable." 

"And  you  want  us  to  help  you  occupy  them?" 
laughed  Merriwell. 

"Yes,  and  help  us  do  up  the  Blue  Mountain  fellows !" 

Barney  Mulloy  and  Harry  Rattleton  hitched  their 
chairs  nearer. 


14          The  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club. 

"Do  you  be  afther  m'anin'  thim  chumps  in  the 
woods  up  on  the  mountain?"  asked  Barney.  "Be- 
gorra !  av  yez  say  yis  to  thot,  Oi'm  wid  yez." 

"I  mean  the  fellows  of  the  Blue  Mountain  Athletic 
Club,"  said  Colson.  "A  week  ago  they  sent  us  chal- 
lenges, which  we  accepted,  but  which  we  must  back 
down  from  unless  your  party  is  willing  to  join  in  and 
aid  us.  You  see,  we  had  sixteen  boys  in  the  camp  at 
that  time.  Now  we  have  only  five.  The  others,  who 
came  from  the  same  town  down  by  the  coast,  had  to 
leave  because  of  sickness  in  their  homes." 

"How  many  boys  are  in  the  Blue  Mountain  Club?" 
inquired  Jack  Diamond. 

"Well,  there  are  fourteen  besides  Ward  Hammond, 
who  is  their  leader.  They  are  already  crowing  over  us 
in  a  way  we  don't  like,  because  they  think  we  can't 
meet  them." 

"Are  they  summer  visitors?"  asked  Rattleton. 

"Some  of  them  are.  The  others  belong  here  in  the 
village.  Hammond  was  brought  up  here,  and  his 
father  owns  a  good  deal  of  land  in  these  mountains. 
He  hasn't  a  very  good  name,  though,  and  is  not  well 
liked.  I've  been  told  that  he's  related  by  blood  to  some 
of  these  fighting  mountaineers,  but  I  don't  know  how 
true  that  is.  When  you  meet  him,  you  will  notice  that 
he  has  the  tall,  lank  appearance  of  a  mountaineer." 

"We've  met  him !"  grunted  Browning. 

"About  challenges.  What  is  their  character  ?"  ques- 
tioned Merriwell. 

"The  arrangements  were  for  an  archery  shoot,  day 
after  to-morrow,  with  a  swimming  match  on  the  lake 


The  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club.  15 

the  next  day,  and  that  to  be  followed  by  a  mountain- 
climbing  contest." 

Colson  looked  hopefully  at  Merriwell  and  his  com- 
panions. 

"You  must  not  say  'no'  to  our  invitation,"  he  in 
sisted.  "You'll  find  it  much  pleasanter  in  our  cottages 
down  by  the  lake  than  in  this  hotel,  and  we  need  you ! 
We  want  you  to  join  our  club.  It  is  perfectly  legiti- 
mate, for  we're  allowed  to  recruit  from  anywhere.  As 
I  said,  a  number  of  the  Blue  Mountain  boys — more 
than  half  of  them,  I  think — do  not  have  their  homes 
in  Glendale." 

"What  do  you  say,  fellows?"  questioned  Merriwell, 
turning  toward  his  companions. 

"Av  it's  thim  chumps  upon  the  hill !"  exclaimed  Bar- 
ney Mulloy. 

Merriwell  nodded. 

"I  think  I'd  like  that,  by  thutter !"  declared  Ephraim 
Gallup. 

"You  pets  my  poots,  dot  voult  pe  a  bicnic !"  asserted 
Hans  Dunnerwust,  the  jolly-looking  Dutch  boy. 

The  others  assented,  each  after  his  own  peculiar 
manner. 

"When  do  you  want  us  to  come  down  ?"  asked  Frank. 

"Right  now,  this  minute,  if  you  will !"  cried  Colson's 
companion,  who  had  hitherto  maintained  a  grave 
silence.  "It's  lonesome  as  a  graveyard  down  there. 
And  you'll  want  to  do  some  practicing !  Can  you  han- 
dle the  bow  and  arrow?" 

Philip  Tetlow's  face  .lighted  up  with  such  fine  enthu- 


1 6          The  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club. 

siasm,  and  has  delight  was  so  manifest,  that  Frank  could 
hardly  restrain  a  laugh. 

"We  must  see  the  landlord  of  the  hotel  first/'  said 
Merriwell,  "for  we  have  already  registered  here,  and  he 
may  interpose  objections  to  our  summary  leave-taking. 
But  you  may  count  on  it  that  we  will  be  with  you 
without  much  delay/' 

Two  hours  later,  Merriwell  and  the  entire  Yale  Com- 
bine were  snugly  installed  in  the  cottages  of  the  Lake 
Lily  Athletic  Club. 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  going  to  have  another  one  of  those 
infernal  chills,"  grumbled  Browning,  as,  with  a  blanket 
drawn  over  him,  he  reclined  in  a  hammock  and  looked 
across  the  water  toward  the  village.  "I  guess  I  shall 
never  get  that  Arkansas  malaria  out  of  my  system, 
though  I've  taken  enough  quinine  to  start  a  drug  store." 

Rattleton  cast  a  look  of  mock  anxiety  at  the  rather 
flimsy  walls. 

"I  say,  Browning,  when  you  get  to  shaking  right 
good,  as  you  did  that  other  time,  you'll  have  your  cot 
put  out  under  the  trees,  won't  you  ?  Just  for  the  safety 
of  the  rest  of  us,  you  know." 

"No,  I  won't !"  Browning  growled.  "If  I  bring  the 
house  down  on  myself,  like  old  Samson,  it  will  delight 
me  to  bury  all  the  rest  of  you  in  the  ruins." 

"Say,  fellows,"  cried  the  irrepressible  Rattleton, 
"why  is  Browning  like  a  member  of  a  certain  well- 
known  religious  organization?" 

"Oh,  go  chase  yourself  out  of  here !"  begged  Bruce. 
"I'm  already  sick,  and  your  weak  jokes  make  me 
sicker." 


The  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club.  17 

"It's  because  he's  a  Shaker." 

Browning  groaned  and  turned  his  face  toward  the 
wall. 

"Won't  some  one  kindly  kill  that  idiot  for  me?"  he 
pleaded. 

Frank  Merriwell  came  into  the  room,  holding  a  hand- 
some lancewood  bow  and  a  sheaf  of  arrows. 

"If  we  are  going  to  meet  Ward  Hammond  and  his 
Blue  Mountain  boys  day  after  to-morrow,"  he  said, 
surveying  the  lounging  group,  "it  strikes  me  that  it 
would  be  well  for  the  new  members  of  Lake  Lily  Ath- 
letic Club  to  get  in  a  little  archery  practice." 

To  this  there  was  a  general  assent,  and  the  entire 
party  prepared  to  leave  the  room,  with  the  exception  of 
Bruce  Browning,  who  shivered  and  drew  the  blanket 
closer  about  him  as  they  got  up  to  go. 

Out  by  the  lake  there  was  a  level  stretch  of  green- 
sward. Here  a  target  had  been  set  up,  and  the  mem- 
bers of  the  club  had  practiced  at  archery. 

Both  the  new  and  the  old  members  of  the  Lake  Lily 
Athletic  Club  practiced  with  the  bow  so  faithfully  in 
the  limited  time  given  them  that  when  they  climbed 
to  the  archery  ground  on  the  wooded  crest  of  Blue 
Mountain  they  felt  that  they  would  be  able  to  give 
Ward  Hammond  and  his  friends  a  hard  contest,  if 
nothing  more,  though  Hammond  had  been  heard  pub- 
licly to  declare  that  the  Lilywhites'  new  members  would 
add  nothing  to  the  strength  of  the  club. 

The  spot  was  an  ideal  one,  and  commanded  a  view 
of  the  lake  and  the  town.  A  glade,  covered  with  short 
grass,  opened  on  the  side  toward  the  village,  being 


i8          The  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club. 

flanked  by  wooded  slopes.  Near  at  hand  were  the  cot- 
tages of  the  Blue  Mountain  Club.  They  were  hand- 
somer and  more  expensive  than  those  of  the  other  club, 
but  not  more  comfortable.  Across  one  corner  of  the 
glade,  and  dipping  down  into  the  dark  woods,  ran  the 
path  on  which  MerriweH's  bicycle  had  collided  with  and 
crushed  the  violin. 

Ward  Hammond  and  his  companions  were  already 
on  the  ground,  and  Hammond  was  looking  at  his  watch 
as  Merriwell's  party  came  up. 

"I  didn't  know  but  you  fellows  had  backed  out,"  he 
declared,  with  a  sneer,  snapping  the  gold  case  together 
and  dropping  the  watch  into  his  pocket. 

Jack  Diamond  flushed  and  pulled  out  his  own  time- 
piece. 

"We've  ten  minutes  to  spare,  if  my  watch  is  right!" 
he  asserted. 

"Of  course  your  watch  is  right !"  was  the  suggestive 
retort. 

"I  hope  you  don't  mean  to  insinuate  that  I  turned  my 
watch  back  for  any  reason,"  said  Diamond,  gulping 
down  his  growing  anger. 

"You  ought  to  know  that  I  wouldn't  insinuate  such  a 
thing  against  any  member  of  the  Lilywhites?"  Ham- 
mond sarcastically  purred,  but  in  .softer  tones. 

Frank  Merriwell  was  stringing  his  bow  and  glancing 
off  toward  the  target  It  was  a  thirty-pound  lance- 
wood  bow,  with  horn  notches  at  the  tips,  a  handsome 
bow,  and  a  good  one,  as  he  had  reason  to  know. 

The  target  was  set  at  a  supposed  distance  of  sixty 
yards  from  the  archers.  It  was  a  flat,  circular  pad  of 


The  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club.  19 

twisted  straw,  four  feet  in  diameter,  and  it  was  faced 
with  cloth,  on  which  was  painted  a  central  yellow  disk, 
called  the  gold.  Around  this  disk  was  drawn  a  band  of 
red,  and  next  to  it  a  band  of  blue,  then  one  of  black, 
and  finally  one  of  white. 

"I  suppose  you  understand  how  the  scores  are  to  be 
counted  ?"  inquired  Hammond,  glad  to  change  the  sub- 
ject, for  he  did  not  like  the  look  that  had  come  into 
Diamond's  dark  face.  "A  hit  in  the  gold  counts  nine, 
in  the  red  seven,  in  the  blue  five,  in  the  black  three,  and 
in  the  white  one." 

"And  if  you  miss  the  gol  darned  thing  altogether?" 
drawled  the  boy  from  Vermont 

"You'll  likely  lose  an  arrow  somewhere  down  there 
hi  the  woods,"  Hammond  laughed. 

Craig  Carter,  a  sinewy  lad  of  about  seventeen,  Ham- 
mond's most  intimate  friend  and  admirer,  stepped  for- 
ward with  drawn  bow  and  placed  himself  in  readiness 
to  shoot,  as  his  name  came  first  on  the  list. 

"We're  not  ready  yet,"  objected  Merriwell,  noting 
the  action  and  again  glancing  toward  the  target.  "The 
distance  hasn't  been  measured." 

"We  measured  it  before  you  came,"  said  Hammond, 
with  an  uneasy  look. 

"It  is  only  fair  that  it  should  be  measured  in  our 
presence,"  continued  Frank.  "Errors  can  happen,  you 
know,  and  as  the  rules  call  for  sixty  yards  and  we 
have  been  practicing  for  that  we  don't  want  to  run 
any  risks  by  shooting  at  any  other  distance." 

No  one  knew  better  than  Ward  Hammond  how  es- 


20          The  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club. 

sential  it  is  in  archery  shooting  to  know  the  exact  dis- 
tance that  is  to  be  shot  over. 

Hammond's  uneasiness  seemed  to  communicate  itself 
to  other  members  of  the  Blue  Mountain  Athletic  Club. 

"Get  the  tape  measure,"  Hammond  commanded,  ad- 
dressing Craig  Carter. 

Carter  gave  his  bow  and  arrows  to  another  member 
of  the  club  and  hurried  into  one  of  the  cottages.  From 
this  cottage  he  was  seen  to  rush  into  another  and  then 
another,  and  came  back  in  a  few  moments  with  the 
announcement  that  the  distance  would  have  to  be 
stepped,  as  somehow  the  tape  measure  had  been  mis- 
laid and  he  could  not  find  it. 

Harry  Rattleton  promptly  drew  a  tape  measure  from 
one  of  his  pockets. 

"You  will  find  that  this  is  as  true  as  a  die,"  he  as- 
serted, smilingly  passing  it  to  Hammond.  "Stretch 
it  across  the  ground  there,  and  I'll  help  you  do  the 
measuring,  if  you're  willing." 

"Certainly,"  said  Hammond,  critically  eying  the 
tape.  "You  will  do  as  well  as  any  one." 

Rattleton  took  one  end  of  the  line  and  ran  with  it 
out  toward  the  target,  and  Hammond  put  the  other  on 
the  ground.  Rattleton  marked  the  point,  and  Ham- 
mond moved  up  to  it. 

"The  distance  is  five  yards  too  short,"  Rattleton 
announced,  when  the  measurement  had  been  made. 

"This  line  is  not  right,"  declared  Hammond,  white 
with  inward  rage. 

"Send  to  the  village  and  get  another,  then,"  said 


The  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club.          21 

Merriwell.  "A  dozen  if  you  like.  Or  take  another 
look  for  your  own." 

"Of  course  we'll  set  the  target  where  you  say  it 
ought  to  be,"  fumed  Hammond,  who  had  hoped  to 
take  a  mean  advantage,  which  had  been  prevented  by 
the  true  eye  of  Frank  Merriwell. 

What  made  the  discovery  so  bitter  to  Hammond 
was  the  knowledge  that  he  had  injured  the  chances  of 
himself  and  his  friends  in  the  contest,  for  they  had 
done  nearly  all  of  their  practicing  at  the  false  distance. 
His  attempted  cheating  had  recoiled  on  his  own  head. 

Craig  Carter  again  took  his  bow  and  stepped  for- 
ward to  shoot.  He  held  himself  easily  and  gracefully 
and  drew  the  arrow  to  the  head  with  a  steady  hand. 

Whir-r-r — thud ! 

The  shaft,  in  its  whirring  course  through  the  air, 
arose  higher  than  the  top  of  the  target,  but  dropped 
lower  just  before  it  hit,  and  struck  in  the  pad  of 
twisted  straw  with  a  dull  thud. 

"Five — in  the  blue!"  called  the  marker,  coming  out 
from  behind  the  tree  where  he  had  screened  himself, 
and  drawing  the  arrow  from  the  target. 

"Heavens!  Can't  I  do  better  than  that?"  Carter 
growled. 

Sep  Colson  had  the  lists  of  the  members  of  the  two 
clubs,  and  he  called  Jack  Diamond's  name  next 

Diamond  stepped  forward  confidently  and  let  his 
arrow  fly. 

"In  the  blue — five!"  announced  the  marker. 

"Well,  it's  a  tie,  anyway!"  said  Diamond,  with  a 
disappointed  laugh. 


22          The  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club. 

"By  chaowder,  it  ain't  so  derned  easy  to  hit  that  air 
thing  as  it  might  be!"  drawled  Gallup.  "I  think  I'd 
stand  a  heap  sight  better  show  to  strike  gold  with  a 
shovel  an'  pick  in  Alasky." 

Dan  Matlock,  one  of  the  boys  of  the  Blue  Mountain 
Club,  came  next,  and  then  Hans  Dunnerwust's  name 
was  called. 

"Shoost  you  vatch  me!"  cried  the  roly-poly  Dutch 
boy,  as  he  advanced  and  spat  on  his  hands  before  tak- 
ing up  the  bow.  "I  pet  you  your  life  I  preaks  der 
recort." 

There  was  a  howl  of  derision  at  this  from  the  Blue 
Mountain  boys,  and  even  the  Dutch  boy's  friends  joined 
in  the  laugh. 

"Veil,  you  may  laugh  at  dot  uf  you  don't  vant  to," 
he  exclaimed,  "put  maype  you  don't  laugh  on  der  oder 
side  your  mouts  uf  pime-py.  Ged  avay  oudt!  I  vas 
goin'  to  shoot  der  arrow  oudt  mit  dot  golt,  py  shim- 
miny,  und  don'd  you  vorgid  me!" 

He  drew  the  bow  slowly  up  to  his  face,  shut  one  eye 
and  squinted  along  the  arrow.  Then  he  put  the  bow 
down,  with  a  triumphant  laugh. 

"Who  vas  id  say  to  me  avhile  ago  dot  dis  pow  veigto 
dirty  pounds,  yet  alretty?  Vy,  id  can  lift  me  like  id 
vos  an  infant" 

"Go  on  and  shoot,"  said  Merriwell.  "The  bow 
doesn't  weigh  thirty  pounds.  It  takes  a  thirty-pound 
pull  to  bend  it  That's  why  it  is  called  a  thirty-pound 
bow." 

"So,  dot  vos  id,  eh?"  queried  Dunnerwust,  looking 


The  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club.          23 

the  bow  over  curiously.  "Id  dakes  dirty  pounds  to  bent 
me !  Veil,  here  I  vos  go  ag'in.  Look  oudt  eferypoty." 

His  fingers  slipped  from  the  arrow  and  the  bowstring 
twanged  prematurely. 

This  was  followed  by  a  howl  from  Toots,  who 
dropped  to  the  ground  and  began  to  roll  over  as  if  in 
great  agony. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SHOOTING  AT  THE  DISK  OF  GOLD. 

"Oh,  mah  goodness,  Fs  done  killed !"  Toots  gurgled. 
"Fs  done  shot  clean  through  de  haid.  O-oh,  Lordy! 
Oh,  mah  soul!" 

"Poly  hoker !"  gasped  Rattleton,  who  saw  the  arrow 
sticking  in  the  colored  boy's  cap,  which  was  lying  on 
the  ground.  "I'm  afraid  he  is  hurt  this  time." 

Frank  leaped  to  Toots'  side  and  lifted  him  to  his 
feet. 

Hans  Dunnerwust  had  dropped  the  bow  and  stood 
staring  at  his  work,  his  round  cheeks  the  color  of 
ashes. 

"You're  not  hurt!"  exclaimed  Merriwell,  after  a 
hasty  examination,  giving  the  colored  boy  a  shake  to 
bring  him  to  his  senses.  "The  arrow  cut  through 
your  cap  and  scratched  the  skin  on  the  top  of  your  head* 
but  you  are  not  hurt.  Stand  up,  now,  and  stop  your 
howling !" 

Toots  sank  to  a  camp  chair,  and  made  a  sickly  at- 
tempt at  a  grin. 

"Wo-oh!"  he  gasped.  "It  meks  me  have  de  fevah 
an'  chillins  jes'  lack  Mistah  Browning  to  fink  about  an 
arrum  stickin'  frough  mah  haid.  I  bet  yo'  fo'  dollars 
I  don't  git  hit  no  mo' !  I'll  git  behind  dem  shooters  de 
nex'  time." 

"But  Dunnerwust  is  just  as  liable  to  shoot  back- 


Shooting  at  the  Disk  of  Gold.         25 

wards  as  forwards/'  declared  Rattleton,  who  was  ready 
for  a  laugh,  now  that  he  knew  Toots  was  unhurt. 
"He's  like  the  cross-eyed  man.  You  can't  be  sure  that 
he's  going  to  shoot  in  the  direction  he  looks." 

"Handle  that  bow  with  a  little  more  care,  Hans," 
Merriwell  cautioned.  "We  don't  want  to  have  any- 
body killed  here  this  afternoon." 

Hans  reluctantly  took  up  the  bow  and  prepared  for 
another  effort,  but  the  mishap  seemed  to  have  taken 
the  energy  out  of  him,  and  the  arrow  did  not  fly  as 
far  as  the  target. 

Ephraim  Gallup  came  forward  in  his  turn  with  a 
queer  grin  on  his  thin,  homely  face. 

"Gol  darned  if  I  don't  feel  ez  if  I  could  shoot  this 
thing  clean  through  that  old  tree !"  he  muttered,  as  he 
fitted  an  arrow  to  the  bow.  "Do  you  shoot  at  the 
thing,  er  over  it?" 

"Over  it,"  said  Merriwell.  "In  shooting  so  great  a 
distance  you  must  allow  for  the  trajectory,  or  curve. 
If  you  don't,  your  arrow  will  drop  below." 

Merriwell  smiled  as  he  said  this,  for  he  had  already 
given  Gallup  careful  instructions  and  had  seen  the  boy 
from  Vermont  make  some  good  shots. 

Though  Gallup  stood  in  an  awkward  position,  he 
drew  the  arrow  with  care.  It  was  seen  to  strike  near 
the  center  of  the  target,  and  then  the  marker  called : 

"In  the  red — seven." 

"Good  for  you!"  cried  Diamond.  "That's  two  bet- 
ter than  I  did." 

"Somebody's  got  to  hustle  ef  they  beat  us  this  day, 


26        Shooting  at  the  Disk  of  Gold. 

an*  don't  yeou  fergit  it,"  said  Gallup,  that  queer  grin 
still  on  his  face. 

Ward  Hammond  faced  the  target  with  a  confident 
air.  He  was  a  good  shot  with  the  bow,  and  was  well 
aware  of  the  fact. 

"In  the  gold — nine!"  cried  the  marker,  as  Ham- 
mond's arrow  struck,  and  then  the  Blue  Mountain 
boys  sent  up  a  cheer. 

Merriwell  followed,  and  let  slip  the  arrow  with  a 
steady  hand. 

"In  the  gold — nine!"  cried  the  marker,  again,  al- 
most before  Hammond's  friends  had  ceased  their 
cheering,  and  then  it  was  the  turn  of  Merri well's  fol- 
lowers. 

Toots  would  not  shoot,  excusing  himself  by  saying 
he  knew  he  would  kill  somebody  if  he  did,  and  when 
Dunnerwust  came  again  to  the  scratch  there  was  a 
cautious  widening  of  the  semicircle  gathered  about  the 
archers. 

Hans  came  near  shooting  himself,  this  time,  for  the 
arrow  slipped,  while  he  was  trying  to  fit  it  to  the  string, 
and  flew  skyward,  past  his  nose. 

"Look  oudt !"  Hans  squawked.  "Uf  dot  comes  down 
your  head  on,  I  vill  ged  hurt !" 

It  fell  near  Gallup,  who  stepped  nimbly  to  one  side 
as  it  descended. 

"Look  here,  b'jee!"  he  growled.  "If  you've  got  a 
grutch  agin'  me,  say  so,  but  don't  go  shootin'  arrers  at 
me  zif  you  was  an'  Injun  an'  me  a  Pilgrum  Father." 

"Oxcuse  me!"  supplicated  the  Dutch  boy.     "Dot 


Shooting  at  the  Disk  of  Gold.         27 

string  slipped  der  arrow  py  ven  I  dry  to  fix  him.  Shust 
eferypoty  stant  avay  off,  now,  so  I  vill  nod  ged  hurted." 

The  semicircle  widened  this  time  to  a  very  respect- 
able distance.  Hans  spat  on  his  hands,  grasped  the 
plush  handle  in  the  middle  of  the  bow,  fitted  the  arrow 
and  drew  it  down  with  exceeding  care.  When  he  had 
sighted  with  his  open  right  eye  till  every  one  was 
growing  impatient,  he  let  the  bowstring  slip. 

"In  the  white — one!"  shouted  the  marker. 

In  all  his  practice  Hans  had  never  before  struck  an 
arrow  in  the  target,  and  he  was  so  pleased  now  that 
he  fairly  hugged  himself  with  delight. 

"Vot  vos  id  you  tolt  me?"  he  cried,  in  great  elation. 
"We  peen  goin'  to  vin  dis  game  so  easy  as  falling  a 
log  off!" 

"Yes,  it's  won!"  said  Hammond,  with  a  perceptible 
sneer.  "There  is  no  doubt,  Dutchy,  that  you're  a 
shooter  from  Shootville.  If  you  hit  the  white  again, 
it  will  count  two." 

"You  pet  yourselluf  der  v'ite  vill  hid  me  so  many  as 
sixdeen  dimes  alretty !"  cried  Hans,  stung  by  the  sneer. 

Hammond  struck  the  gold  again,  but  Merriwell  got 
only  the  red.  Twice  this  was  repeated;  after  which 
Merriwell  put  his  arrow  in  the  gold  three  times  in  suc- 
cession, while  Hammond  dropped  to  the  red,  and  once 
to  the  blue,  which  last  counted  only  five. 

It  quickly  developed  that  there  were  good  archers  on 
both  sides,  and  the  contest  waxed  hot.  Diamond,  Rat- 
tleton  and  Gallup  shot  well,  as  did  also  Colson  and 
Tetlow.  Six  times  the  yellow-haired,  big- jointed  boy 
from  Vermont  put  his  arrow  in  the  gold,  though  he 


28         Shooting  at  the  Disk  of  Gold. 

faced  the  target  so  awkwardly  that  it  did  not  seem 
possible  he  could  handle  a  bow  at  all. 

As  for  Browning,  he  had  been  left  at  the  camp, 
muffled  up  in  a  blanket  and  in  the  grip  of  another  chill. 

"I  didn't  learn  to  knock  the  sparrers  out  o'  dad's  old 
barn  with  a  bow  an'  arrer  fer  nuthin' !"  Gallup  grinned, 
when  some  one  praised  his  marksmanship. 

In  addition  to  Ward  Hammond,  Craig  Carter,  of 
the  Blue  Mountain  boys,  shot  excellently,  as  did  also 
Dan  Matlock  and  some  half  dozen  others. 

The  contest  grew  hotter  and  hotter.  The  club  scores 
—the  average  scores  of  the  combined  membership  of 
each  club — ran  very  evenly,  and  as  the  shoot  drew 
toward  its  close,  the  count  of  the  club  scores  showed 
five  in  favor  of  the  boys  of  Lake  Lily,  with  Ward  Ham- 
mond's score  three  more  than  Merriwell's,  and  the  best 
that  had  been  made. 

"Don't  1'ave  him  bate  yez,  Merry,  me  b'y!"  Barney 
Mulloy  whispered. 

"You  may  be  sure  I'll  do  my  best,  Barney,"  re- 
sponded Merriwell,  compressing  his  lips  as  he  stepped 
again  to  the  line  and  took  up  the  bow. 

"Seven — in  the  red!"  cried  the  marker. 

Then,  as  Ward  Hammond  followed: 

"Nine— in  the  gold!" 

There  were  only  three  more  rounds,  twenty-one  of 
the  twenty-four  rounds  of  the  contest  having  been  shot. 

"Here  are  the  leading  scores,  as  revised  after  that 
last  shoot,"  announced  the  youth  who  kept  the  score 
card,  reading  from  the  card,  while  the  excited  and  anx- 


Shooting  at  the  Disk  of  Gold.         29 

ious  lads  gathered  closely  about  him.  "Ward  Ham- 
mond, 145;  Frank  Merriwell,  140." 

The  Blue  Mountain  boys  swung  their  caps  and  sent 
up  a  cheer  of  delight. 

Again  Frank  faced  the  target  and  let  his  arrow  fly. 

"Nine — in  the  gold !"  came  the  voice  of  the  marker. 

"Good  boy!"  cried  Harry  Rattleton.  "That  gives 
you  one  hundred  and  forty-nine.  Do  it  another  time." 

Frank  Merriwell  did  it  another  time;  and  when  the 
marker  called  "nine,"  Ward  Hammond  became  notice- 
ably rattled,  for  he  had  made  only  seven  in  the  previous 
shot. 

Hammond's  hands  were  seen  to  shake  as  he  drew  on 
the  bowstring,  and  when  the  marker  called,  "only  five 
— in  the  blue,"  his  dark  face  grew  almost  colorless. 

"One  more  round,"  said  the  score  marker.  "Frank 
Merriwell  now  has  158;  Ward  Hammond,  157." 

The  excitement  was  at  fever  pitch  as  Merriwell  again 
went  forward  to  shoot. 

He  knew  that  everything  depended  on  this  last  shot 
If  he  could  again  hit  the  gold,  it  would  then  be  impos- 
sible for  Hammond  to  beat  him,  for  he  already  led 
Hammond  by  one  and  Hammond  could  do  no  more 
than  strike  the  gold.  Therefore  he  went  about  his 
preparations  with  the  utmost  coolness  and  care. 

Grasping  the  bow  in  the  middle  with  his  left  hand, 
he  placed  the  notch  of  the  feathered  arrow  on  the  mid- 
dle of  the  string  with  his  right,  resting  the  shaft  across 
the  bow  on  the  left  side  just  above  and  touching  his 
left  hand.  Then,  with  the  first  three  fingers  of  his  right 


3o         Shooting  at  the  Disk  of  Gold. 

hand,  which  were  covered  with  leather  tips  to  protect 
them,  he  grasped  the  string  and  the  arrow-neck. 

It  was  an  inspiring  sight  just  to  look  on  Merriwell 
at  this  supreme  moment,  as  he  stood  ready  to  shoot 
He  seemed  to  be  unconscious  that  there  was  another 
person  in  the  world.  His  body  was  gracefully  erect, 
his  left  side  slightly  turned  toward  the  target,  his  left 
arm  rigidly  extended,  and  his  right  hand  drawing 
steadily  on  the  string  of  the  bow.  There  was  a  shining 
light  in  his  eyes  and  on  his  face  a  slight  flush. 

The  profound  silence  that  had  fallen  on  every  one 
was  broken  by  the  twang  of  the  bowstring,  by  the 
arrow's  whizzing  flight  and  by  the  audible  sighs  that 
•went  up  as  it  sped  on  its  way. 

"Nine — in  the  gold !"  called  the  marker,  with  a  thrill 
in  his  usually  monotonous  voice. 

But  there  was  no  cheering,  though  Rattleton  felt  like 
cracking  the  blue  dome  of  the  sky  and  his  throat  as 
well.  The  excitement  was  too  intense. 

"I'll  duplicate  that  or  break  the  bow!"  Hammond 
was  heard  to  mutter. 

Merriwell  walked  down  toward  the  target,  anxious 
to  observe  the  arrow  as  it  struck,  a  proceeding  that  was 
perfectly  allowable  so  long  as  he  kept  out  of  the  archer's 
way. 

Diamond,  who  was  watching  Hammond,  saw  the 
latter^s  face  darken  while  the  pupils  of  the  boy's  eyes 
seemed  to  contract  to  the  size  of  pin  points. 

"That  fellow  is  a  regular  devil,"  thought  Diamond. 
"I  must  warn  Frank  to  look  out  or  he'll  be  waylaid  and 
shot  by  him  some  of  these  fine  evenings." 


Shooting  at  the  Disk  of  Gold.         31 

Hammond  drew  the  arrow  to  the  head  with  a  steady 
hand,  but,  just  as  he  released  it,  his  foot  slipped  back 
on  the  grass  and  the  arrow  was  sharply  deviated  from 
the  line  it  should  have  taken  to  reach  the  target.  In- 
stead of  flying  toward  the  gold,  it  flew  toward  Merri- 
well. 

"Look  out!"  screamed  Diamond,  jumping  to  his 
feet 

Merriwell  had  reached  the  narrow  path  that  ran 
across  the  grounds  and  was  directly  in  front  of  a  tree 
that  stood  in  the  path  and  cut  off  the  view  toward  the 
village. 

He  heard  the  "whir-r-r"  of  the  arrow,  heard  Dia- 
mond's cry,  and  dropped  to  the  ground  on  his  face. 

At  the  same  instant,  the  straight,  lithe  form  of  a 
girl  of  seventeen  or  eighteen  appeared  from  behind  the 
tree. 

She  was  directly  in  the  line  of  the  arrow's  flight 
She,  too,  heard  the  warning,  but  she  did  not  under- 
stand it.  She  did  not  dream  of  peril. 

Then  the  arrow  struck  her,  and,  uttering  a  cry,  she 
staggered  backward  and  went  down  in  a  heap. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
BRUCE  BROWNING'S  ADVENTURE. 

"Heavens,  she  is  killed  1"  thought  Frank,  leaping  up 
and  running  toward  the  fallen  girl. 

There  were  excited  exclamations  from  the  group  of 
archers,  and  a  sound  of  hurrying  footsteps. 

Frank  saw  the  girl  struggle  into  a  sitting  posture  and 
pluck  away  the  arrow,  which  seemed  to  have  lodged 
in  the  upper  part  of  her  left  arm  or  in  her  shoulder. 
Then  she  staggered  to  her  feet.  When  he  gained  her 
side  she  was  trembling  violently,  and  her  thin  face 
was  as  white  as  the  face  of  the  dead. 

Only  a  glance  was  needed  to  tell  him  that  she  was 
the  daughter  of  one  of  the  poor  whites  of  the  Blue 
Ridge  Mountains.  Her  dress  was  of  faded  cotton,  her 
shoes  heavy  and  coarse.  In  one  hand  she  clutched  a 
calico  sunbonnet,  which  had  dropped  from  her  head  as 
she  fell. 

"You  are  hurt!"  gasped  Merriwell.  "Will  you  not 
let  me  assist  you  in  some  way?" 

She  shivered  and  gave  him  a  quick  glance,  then 
stared  toward  the  lads  who  were  rushing  in  that  direc- 
tion. The  sight  galvanized  her  into  activity. 

"I  dunno  ez  I've  any  call  ter  be  helped !"  she  asserted, 
starting  back  and  giving  a  last  look  at  the  arrow,  which 
lay  on  the  grass  at  her  feet,  where  she  had  flung  it  as 
if  it  were  a  snake.  "Leastways,  I  'low  ez  how  I  kin 


Bruce  Browning's  Adventure.          33 

make  my  way  home.  I  war  a  good  'eal  more  skeered 
than  hurt." 

"But  I  saw  the  arrow  strike  you!"  Merriwell  per- 
sisted. 

She  put  out  her  hands  as  if  to  keep  him  from  com- 
ing nearer,  then  sprang  back  into  the  path,  and  van- 
ished behind  the  tree  and  into  the  depths  of  the  woods 
before  he  could  do  aught  to  prevent  the  movement. 

"She's  gone,"  said  Frank,  as  the  others  came  up  on 
the  run.  "There's  the  arrow.  I  saw  her  pluck  it  out 
of  her  arm  o-r  shoulder,  but  she  would  not  stay  to  ex- 
plain how  badly  she  was  hurt." 

"That  is  Bob  Thornton's  girl,  Nell,"  said  Hammond, 
in  a  shaky  voice.  "I  hope  she  isn't  much  hurt.  That 
was  an  awkward  slip  I  made,  and  if  I  had  killed  her  I 
could  never  have  forgiven  myself." 

Merriwell  gave  him  a  quick  and  comprehensive 
glance.  It  was  caught  by  Hammond,  and  served  to  in- 
crease his  agitation. 

"It  was  a  very  awkward  slip,  as  you  say,  Mr.  Ham- 
mond. That  arrow  might  have  killed  me.  It  would 
certainly  have  struck  me,  if  I  hadn't  dropped  as  I  did." 

"Accidents  will  happen,  you  know!"  pleaded  Ham- 
mond. "I  hope  you  don't  think  I  would  do  such  a 
thing  on  purpose.  It  was  a  slip,  just  as  when  Dun- 
nerwust  shot  the  arrow  into  your  nigger's  cap." 

He  was  about  to  say  more,  but  checked  himself,  in 
the  fear  that  he  was  beginning  to  protest  too  much. 

"Perhaps  we'd  better  gollow  the  firl — I  mean  follow 
the  girl,"  suggested  Rattleton.  "She  may  have  tum- 
bled down  again." 


34          Bruce  Browning's  Adventure. 

He  did  not  wait  for  an  order,  but  sprang  into  the 
path  that  led  behind  the  tree,  and  hurried  along  it,  with 
a  half  dozen  curious  fellows  at  his  heels. 

It  was  soon  evident  that  the  girl  had  not  stuck  to  the 
path,  which  would  have  taken  her  back  toward  the 
village,  but  had  plunged  into  the  woods,  which  in  places 
was  thick  with  undergrowth. 

"It's  no  use  to  follow  her,"  said  Hammond,  joining 
the  searchers.  "It  is  likely  she  will  make  a  short  cut 
for  home,  where  her  father  probably  is,  and  where  she 
can  have  the  wound  dressed.  That  is,  if  she  was  really 
wounded,  which  I  doubt,  from  her  actions.  Perhaps 
the  arrow  only  struck  in  her  clothing,  and  frightened 
her.  When  I  picked  it  up  and  examined  the  point,  I 
could  see  no  blood  on  it." 

The  archery  contest  was  virtually  ended,  with  Mer- 
riwell  and  the  Lake  Lily  Club  the  winners,  and  no  one 
was  in  a  hurry  to  go  back  to  the  shooting  ground. 
But  it  was  universally  conceded  in  a  little  while  that 
no  good  could  be  done  by  trying  to  follow  one  who 
knew  the  wilderness  paths  as  well  as  any  deer  that 
roamed  them,  for  it  would  be  impossible  to  overtake 
her  as  long  as  she  did  not  want  to  be  overtaken. 

While  the  boys  talked  and  speculated,  Nell  Thornton 
was  hastening  on  through  the  laurel  scrub,  unmindful 
of  the  stabbing  pain  in  her  shoulder;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  Bruce  Browning,  wrapped  in  a  heavy  coat  and 
with  a  handkerchief  knotted  about  his  shivering  neck, 
was  advancing  slowly  and  languidly  up  the  path  in  the 
direction  of  the  archery  grounds. 

"I'm  afraid  that  confounded  chill  is  coming  back," 


Bruce  Browning's  Adventure.          35 

Bruce  grumbled,  pushing  a  vine  out  of  his  way,  "and 
I  suppose  I  was  a  fool  for  leaving  the  cottage.  I  wish 
I  had  taken  that  other  path,  even  if  it  is  farther  around. 
The  bushes  are  thick  enough  here  to  make  a  squirrel 
sick,  trying  to  worm  through  them.  Hello!  What 
does  that  mean?" 

Nell  Thornton,  who  had  struck  into  this  path  from 
the  woods,  came  into  view,  and  was  seen  to  reel  and 
lurch  like  a  boat  in  a  gale. 

Browning  stopped  and  stared. 

Then  he  saw  her  reach  out  to  steady  herself  by  a 
sapling,  and  sink  down  in  an  unconscious  heap. 

"By  Jove!  she's  fainted!"  he  muttered,  stirred  by 
the  sight  "She  must  be  ill  or  hurt!  I  wonder  who 
she  is?" 

He  forgot  his  lazy  lethargy,  and  scrambled  up  the 
path  with  a  nimbleness  that  would  have  been  surpris- 
ing to  his  friends,  and  which  took  him  to  Nell  Thorn- 
ton's side  in  a  very  few  moments. 

"Blood  on  her  hand  and  running  down  her  arm!" 
he  declared,  with  a  gasp  of  astonishment.  "Here's  a 
mystery  for  you !" 

Nell  Thornton  lay  with  eyes  closed,  motionless,  and 
seemingly  without  life.  To  Bruce  her  condition  ap- 
peared alarming.  He  lifted  her  head,  then  let  it  drop 
back,  and  stood  up  and  looked  dazedly  about,  won- 
dering what  he  should  do.  He  recollected  that  he  had 
seen  a  small  stream  of  water  trickling  over  the  rocks 
a  short  distance  below. 

"Just  the  thing !"  he  thought.  "I'll  carry  her  down 
there!" 


36          Bruce  Browning's  Adventure. 

As  if  she  were  a  feather  weight,  he  lifted  her  in  his 
strong  arms,  and  started  down  the  path,  moving  in  a 
hurry,  now  that  his  anxiety  was  thoroughly  aroused. 

"If  the  boys  should  see  me  now,"  he  groaned,  "I'd 
never  hear  the  last  of  it.  Luckily,  they'll  not  be  apt 
to  see  me.  No  doubt  they  are  whanging  away  with 
their  bows  up  on  top  of  the  hill.  I  wonder  how  she 
got  hurt?  Could  it  have  been " 

He  stopped,  and  stared  into  the  thin,  pallid  face. 

"Could  she  have  been  hit  by  a  wild  arrow  that 
missed  the  target  and  flew  off  into  the  woods  ?  Heav- 
ens! I  hope  not!" 

Down  the  steep  path,  slipping,  sliding,  maintaining 
his  footing  with  difficulty,  went  Bruce  Browning,  with 
Nell  Thornton  in  his  arms,  until  he  came  to  the  rivulet 
he  had  seen  gurgling  over  the  rocks.  There  he  put 
her  down,  as  tenderly  as  if  she  were  a  sleeping  child, 
and  sought  to  make  her  comfortable  by  rolling  up  his 
coat  and  tucking  it  under  her  head  and  shoulders. 

This  done,  he  scooped  up  some  of  the  water  in  his 
cap  and  began  to  bathe  her  hands  in  it,  and  to  sprinkle 
it  in  her  face. 

But  Nell  Thornton  was  so  slow  to  return  to  con- 
sciousness that  Bruce  was  about  to  rip  up  the  sleeve  of 
her  dress  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  the  wound  from 
which  the  blood  still  trickled,  when  she  stirred  un- 
easily. 

Thus  encouraged,  he  renewed  his  efforts,  and  a  little 
later  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  eyes  flutter  open. 

She  stared  in  a  puzzled  way  up  into  his  face,  then 
tried  to  get  on  her  feet. 


Bruce  Browning's  Adventure.          37 

"Let  me  help  you,"  Bruce  begged,  slipping  an  arm 
beneath  her  head. 

"Whar — whar  am  I?"  she  demanded,  putting  up  a 
hand  protestingly. 

"You  are  hurt,  and  you  fell  in  the  path  up  there,  a 
little  while  ago,"  Bruce  explained.  "I  brought  you 
down  here  by  the  brook." 

She  looked  at  her  hand,  saw  the  blood,  and  made 
another  effort  to  get  on  her  feet. 

She  succeeded  this  time,  standing  panting  and  wild- 
eyed  on  the  rocks. 

"I'm  not  hurt  ter  speak  on!"  she  asserted.  "I  'low 
ez  how  I  must  hev  got  dizzy-like  an'  fell,  but  I  ain't 
hurt  ter  speak  on." 

She  seemed  about  to  start  on  down  the  path,  but 
checked  herself,  with  the  feeling  that  perhaps  some- 
thing in  the  way  of  an  acknowledgment  was  due  this 
handsome  stranger,  and  continued : 

"I'm  'bleeged  to  you.  'Twas  a  acks'dent,  the  way  it 
happened.  I  war  behint  the  tree,  an'  they  didn't  see 
me  tell  I  stepped  out,  an'  then  the  arrer  war  a-comin', 
an'  it  war  too  late  to  be  holped." 

"Then  one  of  the  arrows  struck  you,  as  I  feared!" 
growled  Browning.  "Do  you  think  you  are  much 
hurt?  Perhaps  you  had  better  make  an  examination. 
The  wound  seems  to  be  bleeding  pretty  freely." 

She  drew  the  sleeve  down,  as  if  to  hide  the  telltale 
color. 

"Renty  time  fur  that  when  I  git  home,  which,  ef  I 
ever  git  thar,  I'd  better  be  humpin'  myself  along,  too !" 


38          Bruce  Browning's  Adventure. 

Again  she  moved  as  if  to  start  down  the  path,  but 
was  checked  by  Browning's  words : 

"You  are  in   no  condition  to  go  alone,   Miss — 

Miss " 

"My  name's  Nell  Thornton,"  she  said,  coloring 
slightly,  "ef  that  is  what  you  mean.  But  these  hyar 
mounting  people  don't  waste  no  breath  a-sayin'  of  miss 
an'  mister." 

Still,  Browning  could  see  that  she  was  pleased. 

"Miss  Thornton,"  he  said,  holding  the  cap,  from 
which  the  water  still  dripped,  "permit  me  to  introduce 
myself.  My  name  is  Bruce  Browning,  and  I  belong 
with  Frank  Merriwell's  party,  which  arrived  in  Glen- 
dale  only  the  day  before  yesterday.  We  have  become 
members  of  the  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club  since,  and  it 
may  be  that  the  arrow  which  struck  you  was  shot  by 
one  of  my  friends,  for  they  are  taking  part  in  the 
archery  shoot  up  on  the  hill." 

It  was  a  very  long  speech  for  Bruce  Browning,  as  he 
himself  realized,  but  it  slipped  off  his  tongue  very 
easily,  under  the  circumstances. 

"So  I  more  than  ever  feel  that  it  is  my  duty  to  assist 
you,"  he  continued,  "and  to  see  that  you  reach  home 
without  further  accident." 

"I  dunno  what  dad'll  say  'bout  that,"  she  observed, 
shyly.  "He  allus  declar's  ez  he  ain't  got  no  use  fur 
citified  people,  with  thar  store  clo'es,  an'  sich.  So  I 
reckon  it'd  be  an  uncommon  good  piece  o'  hoss  sense 
ef  you'd  track  back  up  the  hill." 

"No,  I  can't  leave  you  that  way,"  declared  Brown- 
ing, who,  looking  into  her  white  face,  saw  that  she  was 


Bruce  Browning's  Adventure.          39 

so  weak  she  was  again  on  the  point  of  falling.  "You 
are  in  no  condition  to  go  on  alone,  Miss  Thornton.  I 
can't  permit  it." 

Then  he  squeezed  the  water  out  of  his  cap,  got  him- 
self into  his  coat,  and  prepared  to  assist  her  down  the 
hill  and  to  her  home. 

Bob  Thornton's  cabin,  the  home  of  Nell  Thornton, 
did  not  differ  materially  in  its  general  aspect  from 
other  cabins  Bruce  Browning  had  seen  in  the  moun- 
tains, except  that  it  was  larger.  A  bar  of  light  from 
the  descending  sun  fell  through  a  wooded  notch  in  the 
hills  and  lit  up  the  small  panes  of  its  one  window  with' 
a  ruddy  fire.  A  morning-glory,  with  closed  petals, 
clambered  up  the  rough  stick-and-mud  chimney,  as  if 
trying  to  hide  its  unsightliness,  and  a  gourd  vine 
swung  its  green,  pear-shaped  bulbs  over  the  door. 

Nell  Thornton  had  seemed  to  gain  strength  as  the 
journey  continued,  and  had  not  often  needed  Bruce's 
helping  hand,  even  where  the  way  was  rough.  Now 
she  stopped  in  the  doorway,  as  if  she  did  not  desire 
him  to  go  further. 

"I'm  'bleeged  to  ye!"  she  said,  apparently  at  a  loss 
for  words  with  which  to  express  her  thanks.  "My 
arm  ain't  hurtin'  so  much  ez  it  did,  an'  dad's  a  master 
hand  ter  fix  up  a  wound  like  that.  I  don't  doubt  it'll 
be  all  right  by  ter-morrer.  I'm  sorry  you  los'  so  much 
time  a-troublin'  with  me." 

"Don't  mention  it,"  begged  Bruce.  "I'm  glad  to 
have  been  of  assistance." 

Then  he  lifted  his  cap,  and  moved  grumblingly  away. 

"Good-by!"  she  called,  timidly. 


40          Bruce  Browning's  Adventure. 

Bruce  turned  and  faced  her. 

"Good-by !"  he  said,  again  lifting  his  cap. 

He  saw  her  vanish  into  the  cabin,  and  once  more 
sought  the  blind  path  that  led  from  the  cabin  up  the 
mountain. 

"It  will  be  darker  than  a  stack  of  black  cats  before 
I  get  back  to  the  cottages,"  he  growled.  "What  in 
thunder  makes  anybody  want  to  live  in  such  an  out-of- 
the-way  place  as  this?" 

He  had  almost  forgotten  the  chill  which  he  feared 
was  coming,  but  now  lie  again  drew  the  coat  collar 
about  his  throat,  and  began  to  shiver,  as  he  plodded  on. 

"That  everlasting  Arkansas  malaria  will  be  the  death 
of  me  yet!"  he  groaned.  "I  feel  just  as  if  a  lot  of 
icicles  were  chasing  up  and  down  my  spine.  I  wonder 
which  one  of  the  fellows  it  was  shot  that  arrow  ?" 

The  sun  dropped  out  of  sight,  and  the  shadows  gath- 
ered quickly  in  the  hollows  of  the  hills.  The  exertion 
of  climbing  warmed  Bruce,  bringing  the  perspiration 
out  on  his  face  and  body.  He  pushed  back  the  collar 
of  the  coat,  and  mopped  his  face.  Then  went  on  again, 
slipping,  sliding,  grumbling. 

"I  thought  this  path  ascended  all  the  time,"  he 
growled,  peering  into  the  thickening  gloom.  "I  don't 
remember  this  slope,  but  of  course  we  crossed  it  in  com- 
ing down.  These  hills  and  hollows  look  bewilderingly 
alike  in  this  light." 

Half  an  hour  later,  he  came  to  a  dead  stop,  w^  Ji  the 
unpleasant  feeling  that  he  had  wandered  from  the  right 
path  and  was  lost. 

"Here's  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish!"  he  groaned.     "I'll 


Bruce  Browning's  Adventure.          41 

take  on  another  cartload  of  malaria  if  I  have  to  lie  out 
in  these  woods  to-night.  Well,  it's  no  use  to  turn  back. 
I  couldn't  find  Thornton's  cabin  if  I  tried." 

When  he  had  stumbled  on  for  another  provoking  half 
hour,  with  the  darkness  increasing,  he  came  to  another 
halt.  A  gleam  of  light,  from  a  lamp  or  candle,  reached 
him  through  the  trees. 

"I  can  inquire  my  way  there,  if  nothing  else,"  he  re- 
flected, "and  perhaps  if  it  seems  impossible  for  me  to 
get  home,  I  can  find  a  bed  for  the  night." 

Though  still  in  a  grumbling  humor,  he  went  on  again 
with  a  decided  feeling  of  relief,  which  changed  to  one 
of  surprise  and  bewilderment  when  he  was  near  enough 
the  light  to  make  out  the  manner  of  house  from  which 
it  issued. 

He  had  returned  to  Bob  Thornton's  cabin ! 


CHAPTER  V. 
HAMMOND'S  PLOT. 

"I  don't  see  how  I  could  have  done  that,"  Bruce 
Browning  growled,  unpleasantly  mystified.  "I  don't 
suppose  Nell  will  be  very  glad  to  see  me,  and  probably 
she  will  think  I  came  back  purposely.  But  her  'dad,'  as 
she  calls  him,  will  have  to  show  me  the  way  out  of  this 
place,  or  give  me  shelter." 

He  walked  toward  the  door,  the  soft  carpet  of  grass 
and  leaves  muffling  the  sound  of  his  footsteps.  But  at 
the  corner  of  the  cabin  he  was  brought  to  as  sudden  a 
stop  as  if  struck  in  the  face. 

"His  name  is  Frank  Merriwell,  and  I  came  down  to 
tell  you  about  him !" 

These  words,  given  in  the  voice  of  Ward  Hammond, 
with  the  hissing  emphasis  of  intense  hate,  reached 
Bruce  Browning  like  a  blow,  and  stayed  his  feet. 

"He's  pretending  to  be  a  summer  visitor,  and  is  stay- 
ing with  a  crowd  at  the  cottages  on  the  lakeside,  but  I 
overheard  him  talking  last  night,  and  caught  on  to  the 
whole  thing.  He  has  been  sent  here  by  the  govern- 
ment to  hunt  you  down  and  drag  you  to  jail." 

The  voice  did  not  come  from  within  the  cabin,  but 
from  behind  it,  where,  as  Bruce  recollected,  there  was  a 
bench  under  a  shade  tree. 

Bruce  put  a  hand  against  the  cabin  wall  as  a  stay,  for 
he  found  himself  unexpectedly  weak  and  violently  trem- 


Hammond's  Plot.  43 

bling,  and  listened  for  the  reply.  It  came  at  once  in 
angry,  grating  tones : 

"Then  he's  one  o'  them  thar  cussed  revnoo  fellers! 
Dad-burn  my  hide,  ef  he  don't  wisht  he'd  never  set  hoof 
in  these  hyar  mountings,  'fore  he's  a  week  older!  Ef 
he  comes  nosin'  'round  hyar,  I  won't  hev  no  more 
mercy  on  him'n  I  would  a  she-wolf!" 

"Ef  you  recommember,  Bob,  thar  war  one  hyar  'bout 
this  time  las'  year,  too!"  another  and  younger  voice 
put  in.  "I  reckon  it  air  about  time  ter  do  a  leetle 
shootin' !" 

"That  first  one  must  be  Nell's  father,  for  she  said 
his  name  was  Bob,"  Browning  reflected,  straining  his 
ears  to  catch  every  word.  "I  wonder  if  she  is  in  the 
house  and  hears  that?" 

"It's  for  you  to  say  what  you'll  do,"  Ward  Ham- 
mond purred.  "I  thought  it  my  duty  to  tell  you  what 
I  had  discovered,  for  I  can't  forget  that  you're  related 
to  me,  even  though  we  live  so  differently.  I  could  not 
bear  the  thought  of  seeing  you  dragged  to  jail,  without 
so  much  as  lifting  a  finger  to  prevent  it." 

"We're  'bleeged  to  you,  Ward,"  Bob  Thornton  con- 
fessed. "You  never  did  seem  like  t'other  big-bugs  up 
ter  ther  village,  an'  'tain't  the  fust  time  ye've  put  yerself 
out  ter  gimme  a  p'inter." 

"Blood  is  thicker  than  water,  you  know!"  avowed 
Ward.  "I  always  stand  by  those  who  are  related  to 
me.  If  you  go  gunning  for  that  fellow,  I  want  to 
warn  you  to  keep  your  eyes  open.  He's  smart,  and  if 
you  give  him  half  a  chance,  he'll  strike  you  before  you 
can  strike  him." 


44  Hammond's  Plot. 

"I  don't  doubt  he  is  ez  sharp  ez  a  steel  trap,"  Thorn- 
ton admitted.  "The  guv'ment  don't  send  no  other 
kind  out  ter  hunt  moonshiners,  knowin'  ez  how  it 
wouldn't  be  no  sort  o'  use." 

Bob  Thornton  got  on  his  feet,  and  Ward  Hammond 
closed  the  knife  with  which  he  had  been  whittling. 

"Air  ye  goin'  up  thar  ter-night?"  the  younger  man 
drawled. 

"It  air  my  'pinion  that  it'll  be  better,"  said  Thornton, 
in  a  husky  tone.  "Ef  you  hev  a  thing  ter  do,  do  it. 
Them's  my  sentiments,  an'  I  allus  acts  on  'em.  Ef  you 
hev  a  thing  ter  do,  do  it !" 

"I  do  believe  there  is  to  be  an  attempt  to  murder 
Frank  this  very  night,"  Bruce  Browning  inwardly 
groaned,  almost  afraid  to  move  an  eyelid  lest  it  should 
bring  discovery.  "I've  got  to  get  back  to  the  cottages 
ahead  of  these  fellows,  or  break  my  neck  trying." 

Then  he  almost  groaned  aloud  as  he  thought  of  the 
dark  woods  and  the  paths  that  seemed  little  better  than 
squirrel  tracks,  where  he  had  already  lost  himself,  and 
could  hardly  hope  to  do  better  in  a  wild  race  for  the 
cottages  against  these  miscreants. 

Hammond  and  Thornton  moved  away.  Bruce 
heard  the  third  man  strike  a  match,  and  caught  the  odor 
of  burning  tobacco.  Then  he  noticed  that  the  moon 
was  rising  behind  him  over  a  shoulder  of  the  mountain, 
and  that  the  night  was  growing  lighter. 

"I  can  get  along  with  that  moon,"  he  reflected.  "But 
I'm  afraid  it's  going  to  puzzle  me  to  get  away  from 
this  cabin  without  detection." 

He  was  on  the  point  of  making  a  dash  and  trusting 


Hammond's  Plot.  45 

to  his  heels  for  safety,  for,  though  he  was  large-limbed 
and  heavy,  the  bicycle  trip  across  the  continent  had 
trained  him  down  into  fair  condition  for  running,  and 
the  malarial  trouble  that  seemed  to  have  fastened  on 
him  had  not  yet  materially  affected  his  strength.  But 
he  was  kept  from  this  by  the  voice  of  Nell  Thornton, 
who  entered  the  cabin  at  this  juncture,  singing  that  old, 
old  song  of  the  backwoods : 

"Fair  Charlotte  lived  by  the  mounting  side, 

In  a  wild  an'  lonely  spot, 
No  dwellin'  thar  fur  ten  mile  'roun', 
Except  her  father's  cot!" 

The  voice  was  not  unmusical,  but  it  had  the  piping 
twang  of  the  mountaineers. 

"She  has  been  away  somewhere,  and  heard  none  of 
that  talk,"  thought  Browning,  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 
"I  guess  her  arm  was  not  so  badly  hurt  by  that  arrow 
as  I  fancied.  Anyway,  she  doesn't  seem  to  be  suffer- 
ing much  now,  judging  by  the  way  she  sings." 

He  inclined  his  head  toward  the  cabin  wall,  expecting 
to  catch  the  voice  of  the  younger  man  from  the  bench 
under  the  tree  and  Nell's  answer  to  his  words.  But 
he  heard  only  Nell  singing  of  that  other  mountain  girl 
who  went  sleighing  to  a  dance  in  defiance  of  parental 
authority  and  was  punished  for  her  disobedience  by 
being  frozen  to  death  in  the  sleigh. 

Had  Browning  looked  behind  him,  his  thoughts 
would  have  been  given  another  turn,  for  he  was  never 
in  more  peril  in  his  life  than  at  that  moment. 

The  man  on  the  bench,  chancing  to  glance  around 
the  corner  of  the  cabin  toward  the  increasing  light,  had 


46  Hammond's  Plot. 

seen  Bruce  clearly  outlined  against  the  moon's  silver 
rim.  His  instant  thought  was  that  Bruce  was  the  man 
against  whom  he  and  Bob  Thornton  had  been  warned — 
that  here  was  the  officer  of  the  revenue  service,  with 
head  pressed  close  to  the  cabin  wall,  having  already 
spotted  Bob  Thornton  as  a  moonshiner  and  tracked  him 
to  his  home. 

The  man  was  a  muscular  giant  of  a  fellow,  as  big 
and  as  strong  in  every  way  as  Bruce.  He  was  smoking 
and  nursing  a  heavy  stick,  almost  a  club,  which  he 
habitually  carried  as  a  cane,  but  which,  in  his  hands, 
was  a  weapon  to  fell  an  ox. 

He  quickly  and  stealthily  slipped  out  of  his  shoes, 
then  stole  with  catlike  steps  around  the  building,  and 
approached  Browning  from  the  rear. 

Step  by  step  he  moved  forward,  as  silent  as  a  shadow 
and  as  merciless  as  a  red  Indian.  His  face,  revealed 
by  the  faint  moonlight,  was  distorted  with  rage  and 
hate,  and  his  grip  on  the  deadly  club  was  so  tense  that 
the  muscles  on  his  right  arm  stood  out  in  a  knotted 
mass  under  the  sleeve  of  his  thin,  cotton  shirt. 

Bruce  still  stood,  with  head  inclined  toward  the  cabin 
wall,  listening  for  the  words  he  was  not  to  hear,  wholly 
unaware  of  his  peril. 

Lifting  himself  slowly  erect,  the  man  poised  the  club 
for  a  brief  instant,  then  brought  it  down  with  an  in- 
articulate cry. 

That  cry  saved  Bruce's  life,  but  it  did  not  ward  off 
the  terrible  blow.  Bruce  straightened  his  head  and 
tried  to  leap  back,  instinctively  throwing  up  an  arm  as 
a  shield. 


Hammond's  Plot.  47 

But  the  club  descended,  beating  down  the  arm  and 
striking  the  head  a  glancing  blow,  under  which  Bruce 
sank  down  with  a  hollow  groan. 

The  blow,  the  groan,  the  man's  fierce  curse  as  Brown- 
ing fell,  reached  the  ears  of  Nell  Thornton,  stilling  the 
words  of  the  song. 

She  was  out  of  the  cabin  in  a  flash. 

"What  hev  ye  done,  Sam  Turner?"  she  demanded,  as 
she  hurried  around  the  corner  of  the  cabin,  and  saw  the 
man  standing  over  the  senseless  form,  with  the  mur- 
derous club  still  in  his  hands.  "Who  hev  ye  killed, 
hyar,  I'd  like  ter  know  ?" 

"Shet  yer  yawp,  Nell  Thornton,  an'  go  back  inter 
the  house!"  Turner  harshly  commanded.  "Go  back 
inter  the  house,  whar  ye  belong,  stiddy  botherin'  with 
bizness  that  don't  consarn  ye !" 

"But  it  do  consarn  me,  ef  murder  is  bein'  done!" 
she  asserted. 

Then  her  voice  rose  in  a  shriek,  as  she  bent  over 
Browning,  and  recognized  in  him  the  youth  who  had 
been  so  kind  to  her  that  afternoon. 

Browning  lay  as  he  had  fallen,  without  movement  or 
sign  of  life. 

"Ye've  killed  him,  Sam  Turner!"  she  cried,  facing 
the  mountaineer,  with  white  face  and  flashing  eyes. 
"Ye've  killed  him!" 

"That  thar's  what  I  meant  ter  do !"  Turner  declared. 
"An'  I'll  kill  ever'  other  revnoo  spy  that  the  guv'ment 
sends  down  hyar  ter  'rest  me  an'  yer  dad !" 

Nell  turned  from  him,  with  hot,  dry  eyes  and  choking 
words,  and  again  bent  over  Browning,  even  as  he  had 


48  Hammond's  Plot. 

bent  over  her  when  she  lay  in  a  faint  in  the  wild  moun- 
tain path. 

Then  she  grasped  him  by  the  shoulders  and  tried  to 
lift  him. 

"Help  me  ter  git  him  inter  the  cabin!"  she  wildly 
commanded.  "He  ain't  no  revnoo,  Sam  Turner!  If 
he's  dead,  you'll  hatter  answer  fur  killin'  a  man  that 
never  harmed  ye.  You'll  hatter  answer  fur  it  'fore 
God,  and  that'll  be  wuss'n  the  jedge  at  the  co'tehouse 
down  in  the  valley.  Holp  me  ter  git  him  inter  the 
cabin,  I  tell  ye!" 

She  gave  another  surging  lift  at  the  shoulders,  and 
Bruce  groaned. 

Sam  Turner  raised  the  club  again. 

"Put  that  down!"  she  shrieked,  flying  at  him  with 
the  ferocity  of  an  enraged  panther. 

Turner  staggered  back  under  the  force  of  her  rush, 
and  she  tore  the  club  from  his  hands  and  sent  it  whirl- 
ing far  out  into  the  bushes. 

"If  ye  won't  holp  me,  I'll  drag  him  in  myself,"  she 
declared,  again  seeking  to  lift  Browning  by  the  shoul- 
ders. 

There  was  another  groan  from  Browning's  lips,  and 
then  Sam  Turner,  moved  by  curiosity  rather  than  pity, 
consented  to  assist  Nell  in  getting  the  unfortunate  lad 
into  the  house. 

By  the  light  of  the  kerosene  lamp,  Turner  inspected 
Bruce's  injuries,  while  Nell  stood  by,  with  clasped 
hands,  in  an  agony  of  suspense. 

She  broke  the  silence. 

"  'Fore  God,  Sam  Turner,  I  tell  ye  you  hev  made  a 


Hammond's  Plot.  49 

mistake !  That  man  hev  never  bed  nuthin  ter  do  with 
the  revnoo.  He  belongs  up  ter,  the  village  with  them 
thar  summer  folks.  It's  bloody  murder  ef  ye  hev  killed 
him!" 

"What  do  you  know  'bout  him  ?"  Turner  asked,  sus- 
piciously, irritated  by  her  reproof.  "I  hev  never  said 
he  didn't  b'long  up  ter  the  village.  I  reckon,  now,  you 
must  hev  thought  'cause  he  air  a  revnoo  spy  that  he'd 
be  goin'  'roun'  through  the  mountings  a-hollerin'  out 
his  bizness  ter  the  owls.  I  reckon  you  must  hev 
thought  that.  Ef  he  ain't  a  revnoo,  why  war  he  stand- 
in'  with  his  head  agin'  the  cabin  a-listenin'  ?" 

Browning  groaned  again,  and  moved. 

"He  ain't  so  much  killed  ez  he  mout  be !"  Turner  de- 
clared. "That  club  didn't  ketch  him  squar*.  He 
dodged,  an'  his  shoulder  got  most  o'  it" 

"You're  not  goin'  ter  strike  him  ag*in!"  Nell 
screamed,  clutching  Turner  by  the  arm. 

"Who  said  ez  how  I  war  goin'  ter?"  he  growled, 
shaking  her  off.  "Yer  ole  dad'll  do  that  quick  ernuff 
when  he  gits  back.  He's  out  now  a-aimin'  an'  a-con- 
trivin'  fer  a  safe  plan  ter  git  at  this  feller,  an'  when  he 
gits  back,  an'  finds  that  I've  got  him  hyar,  he'll  be 
plum  tickled  out  o'  one  fit  inter  fifty !" 

He  stooped  toward  Bruce. 

"What  air  you  a-goin'  ter  do  to  him,  Sam  Turner?" 
Nell  demanded,  her  eyes  blazing  with  a  dangerous 
light. 

Turner  caught  her  and  hurled  her  from  him. 

"Will  you  quit  a-naggin'  of  me,  Nell  Thornton? 
I'm  a-goin'  ter  drag  him  inter  t'other  room,  an'  tie  him 


50  Hammond's  Plot. 

up  fer  yer  ole  dad  ter  look  at  when  he  gits  back.  I 
'low  I'll  hev  ter  tell  him,  too,  that  you've  acted  clean 
crazy  over  the  feller." 

There  was  no  answer  to  this  fling,  and  Turner,  lift- 
ing Bruce  by  the  shoulders,  dragged  him  into  the  ad- 
joining room,  the  only  remaining  room  of  the  cabin, 
with  the  exception  of  the  garret 

When  he  had  done  this,  he  hunted  up  a  piece  of  rope, 
with  which  he  securely  tied  Browning's  hands  and  feet. 
Then  he  deliberately  relighted  his  pipe,  took  down  a 
long  rifle  from  its  rack,  and,  seating  himself  in  the 
doorway  in  a  rude,  hickory-bottomed  chair,  he  rested 
the  rifle  across  his  knees,  and  stared  moodily  off  over 
the  ridges,  on  which  the  moonlight  now  fell  with  sil- 
very radiance. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NELL   RETURNS   A    KINDNESS. 

In  the  little  room  where  Sam  Turner  had  dragged 
him,  Bruce  came  back  at  last  to  the  land  of  sentient 
things.  The  moonlight,  streaming  through  a  crack  in 
the  chinked  wall,  fell  on  his  white  face.  His  head  was 
racked  with  splitting  pains,  and  a  dull  ache  made  itself 
unpleasantly  felt  in  his  shoulder. 

When  he  sought  to  move  his  hands  and  feet,  he 
found  that  they  were  tied.  Then  memory  awakened, 
and  he  stared  about  at  the  cabin  walls,  trying  to  deter- 
mine where  he  was,  and  just  what  had  befallen  him. 

A  heavy  snore  drew  his  attention,  and  he  beheld  the 
form  of  a  man  stretched  across  the  doorway  of  his 
room.  There  was  a  rifle  by  the  man's  side,  and  he  had 
evidently  placed  himself  there  to  guard  against  any  at- 
tempt at  escape. 

All  this  was  startling  enough  to  Bruce  Browning. 

"And  Merriwell!  I  was  not  able  to  get  to  him  to 
warn  him  of  his  danger!  I  wonder  what  has  befallen 
him?" 

Almost  his  first  clear  thought  was  of  Frank,  and  the 
peril  which  he  believed  threatened  his  friend. 

He  would  have  groaned  aloud  in  the  very  agony  of 
mental  torture,  if  a  wholesome  fear  had  not  restrained 
him. 


52  Nell  Returns  a  Kindness. 

"I  wonder  what  has  become  of  Nell?"  was  his  next 
mental  query. 

As  if  in  answer,  when  he  looked  again  he  saw  her  tip- 
toeing in  shoeless  feet  toward  the  man  who  lay  in  front 
of  the  door  of  his  prison.  Her  thin  face  seemed  un- 
naturally white  and  bloodless  in  the  dim  light.  Her 
widely  distended  eyes  gleamed  like  those  of  some  wild 
animal.  In  her  right  hand  she  held  something,  which 
he  soon  made  out  to  be  a  knife. 

A  sense  of  bewildered  fascination  fell  on  Bruce.  He 
forgot  the  thumping  pain  in  his  head  and  the  ache  in 
his  shoulder. 

"She  is  going  to  kill  him  as  he  sleeps !"  was  the  hor- 
rible thought  that  seized  him. 

He  moved  uneasily,  and  put  out  his  bound  hands,  as 
if  to  beg  her  not  to  do  a  thing  so  dreadful.  He  might 
have  done  more,  but  at  that  moment  her  eyes  met  his, 
She  saw  that  he  was  conscious,  and  put  a  finger  to  her 
lips  to  enjoin  silence. 

Browning  lay  back  and  stared  at  her.  His  mind  was 
not  yet  entirely  clear. 

Again  she  put  her  fingers  across  her  lips,  and  took 
another  catlike  step  toward  the  sleeping  man. 

She  made  no  more  sound  than  a  gliding  shadow. 
Browning  readily  might  have  believed  her  a  ghost,  and 
it  is  quite  certain  that  Toots,  if  similarly  placed,  would 
have  shrieked  like  a  maniac  from  sheer  fright. 

With  the  stealthy  silence  of  a  panther  creeping  on  its 
prey,  Nell  Thornton  advanced  toward  the  open  door. 

Then  Browning  saw  that  her  gaze  was  not  fixed  so 
much  on  the  sleeping  man  as  on  him,  and  awoke  to  a 


Nell  Returns  a  Kindness.  53 

realization  of  the  fact  that  Nell  was  trying  to  come  to 
his  rescue,  and  that  the  knife  was  to  sever  the  ropes  that 
held  him,  and  was  not  intended  as  a  weapon  with  which 
to  do  murder. 

He  could  not  restrain  the  sigh  of  relief  and  hope 
that  welled  from  his  heart. 

Nell  Thornton's  keen  ears  caught  it,  and  again  her 
finger  went  to  her  lips,  and  she  stopped,  looking  anx- 
iously at  the  sleeper. 

For  several  seemingly  interminable  seconds  she  stood 
thus,  and  when  Turner  did  not  move,  she  took  another 
cautious  step. 

With  her  eyes  fixed  on  Turner's  upturned  face,  she 
stepped  warily  over  his  body,  and  stood  in  the  room  at 
Browning's  side. 

The  knife  gleamed  in  the  moonlight.  It  was  her 
father's  keen-bladed  hunting  knife. 

"I  hev  come  ter  git  ye  out  o'  hyar,"  she  whispered, 
laying  her  lips  against  Browning's  ear.  "Don't  ye  so 
much  ez  whimper  a  sound,  er " 

She  pointed  significantly  with  the  knife  toward  the 
sleeping  form  of  Turner. 

Then  she  pressed  the  blade  against  the  rope  that  held 
Browning's  wrists.  It  was  almost  as  sharp  as  a  razor, 
and  ate  through  the  tough  strands  with  noiseless  ease. 

She  worked  quickly,  but  silently;  then  stood  erect, 
and  pointed  toward  the  door. 

Browning  moved  his  head  to  show  that  he  under- 
stood. 

"Do  ye  need  ter  hev  me  holp  ye?"  she  whispered, 
stooping  till  her  lips  again  touched  his  ear. 


54  Nell  Returns  a  Kindness. 

For  reply,  Browning  lifted  himself  cautiously  and 
struggled  slowly  to  his  feet. 

She  smiled  encouragingly,  and  stepped  through  the 
doorway,  Bruce  following  close  after  her,  as  silently  as 
he  could.  Thus  he  passed  over  the  sleeping  form  of 
Sam  Turner,  and  moved  toward  the  outer  air. 

He  scarcely  ventured  to  breathe  till  they  were  both 
outside,  under  the  flooding  moonlight 

Here  she  took  him  by  the  hand,  without  speaking, 
and  hurried  him  away  from  the  cabin,  into  a  path  that 
led  toward  the  hills  and  in  the  direction  of  the  village. 

"Hev  you  a  knife?"  she  anxiously  asked,  stopping 
when  they  had  gained  the  friendly  shelter  of  the  trees. 

"Yes.  Why?"  inquired  Browning,  venturing  to 
speak  for  the  first  time. 

"  'Case,  ef  you  hev,  I'll  slip  back  inter  that  thar  room 
with  it  an'  lay  it  open  on  the  floor,  so  that  when  Sam 
Turner  hev  come  ter  himself  he'll  'low  ez  how  you  cut 
them  ropes  an'  got  away  'thout  anybody  holping  ye." 

Browning  took  out  his  pocketknife,  opened  the  big- 
gest blade,  and  placed  it  in  her  hand. 

"I'm  'bleeged  ter  ye !"  she  said. 

"And  I'm  obliged  to  you,  Nell— Miss  Thornton!" 
declared  Browning,  with  an  uncommon  warmth  of  feel- 
ing. "Likely  I  should  have  been  killed  if  you  hadn't 
come  to  my  assistance.  And  at  such  a  fearful  risk! 
I  owe  you  my  life !" 

She  was  about  to  turn  away,  but  faced  around  ab- 
ruptly and  looked  him  squarely  in  the  eyes. 

"You  ain't  nary  revnoo  spy,  air  ye,  come  hyar  ter 
hunt  down  the  moonshiners?" 


Nell  Returns  a  Kindness.  55 

"No!"  said  Browning,  with  sturdy  emphasis.  "I 
am  not !  Nor  are  any  of  my  friends.  I  came  back  to 
your  house  because  I  was  lost." 

Her  lips  parted  in  a  smile. 

"I  knowed  you  warn't,"  she  asserted. 

Then,  before  Bruce  could  say  anything  more,  or  even 
bid  her  good-by,  she  leaped  away  and  hastened  back 
toward  the  cabin. 

The  racking  pains,  which  Bruce  had  temporarily  for- 
gotten, shot  again  through  his  head  and  shoulder  as  he 
saw  her  vanish,  and  he  turned  toward  the  mountain 
with  a  groan. 

But  ever,  as  he  toiled  on  over  the  wild  path,  slipping, 
sliding,  groaning,  he  thought  of  Nell  Thornton,  going 
back  into  that  room,  over  the  body  of  the  slumbering 
rifleman,  to  place  the  pocketknife  on  the  floor  by  the 
side  of  the  cut  ropes,  and  his  heart  throbbed  in  sym- 
pathy with  her  great  peril. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

BY  THE  WATERS  OF  LAKE  LILY. 

"It's  a  trick  to  enable  them  to  get  out  of  the  match  1" 
asserted  Ward  Hammond,  with  a  stinging  sneer.  "All 
this  pretense  of  making  a  search  is  the  veriest  humbug ! 
The  idea  that  one  of  their  number  would  wander  away 
into  the  woods,  or  drown  himself  in  the  lake  while  out 
of  his  head  from  a  little  fever,  is  the  greatest  rot  that 
any  one  ever  tried  to  foist  on  the  public." 

A  considerable  concourse  of  people  had  gathered  on 
the  margin  of  Lake  Lily  to  witness  the  swimming 
match  announced  to  come  off  that  morning  at  nine 
o'clock  sharp.  They  were  seated  on  camp  stools,  on 
wooden  benches,  and  on  the  rocks  and  grass.  The 
boathouse  of  the  Lake  Lily  Athletic  Club  was  filled 
with  them. 

And  now  the  rumor  had  gone  forth  that  Frank  Mer- 
riwell  and  his  friends  of  the  Lake  Lily  Club  would  not 
enter  the  contest  because  they  were  organizing  to  search 
for  one  of  their  number  who  had  been  strangely  miss- 
ing since  the  previous  afternoon. 

"It's  a  clear  backdown,"  declared  Hammond,  walk- 
ing up  to  a  group  of  his  Glendale  friends.  "They 
know  they  dare  not  meet  us,  and  they're  simply  making 
that  an  excuse.  I'll  bet  big  money  that,  if  the  truth 
were  known,  the  fellow  they  say  is  lost  is  h;  Men  away 
somewhere  in  one  of  their  cottages," 


By  the  Waters  of  Lake  Lily.          57 

Merriwell's  party,  with  Colson,  Tetlow  and  others, 
came  out  of  a  cottage  at  that  moment.  They  wore  a 
sober,  serious  air.  They  had  been  talking  the  thing 
over,  and  were  intending  to  institute  another  search 
through  the  woods  and  along  the  shores  of  the  lake,, 
though  they  had  already  made  a  number  of  such 
searches.  Merriwell  was  to  speak  to  the  people,  and 
explain  why  it  was  they  could  not  enter  the  swimming; 
match,  and  was  to  announce  that  if  nothing  was  heard 
of  Browning  by  noon,  the  lake  would  then  be  dragged 
for  his  body.  .  . 

But  scarcely  were  they  out  of  the  cottage,  when 
Harry  Rattleton  swung  his  cap  and  gave  a  great  cheer. 

"There  he  is !"  he  whooped.  "Just  in  sight,  coming 
over  that  rise !" 

He  broke  away  from  the  crowd  and  ran  swiftly  to 
meet  Browning,  who  had  lost  his  way  again,  in  spite 
of  the  moonlight,  and  had  been  forced  to  remain  in  the 
woods  all  night. 

The  story  that  Browning  had  strolled  across  the 
mountains  for  a  walk,  and  had  been  assaulted  and 
robbed  by  highwaymen,  spread  like  wildfire. 

It  was  not  started  by  Browning's  friends,  but  when 
they  found  it  current,  they  did  not  try  to  correct  it, 
choosing  to  let  it  go  at  that,  instead  of  giving  the  true 
account  of  his  experiences. 

Ward  Hammond's  boasting  came  to  a  sudden  termi- 
nation when  he  saw  Browning  return,  and  knew  that 
he  would  have  to  swim  against  the  youths  he  had  been 
so  maliciously  maligning. 

It  was  ten  o'clock,  an  hour  later  than  the  time  fixed, 


58          By  the  Waters  of  Lake  Lily. 

when  Frank  Merriwell  and  Sep  Colson,  who  had  been 
selected  by  the  members  of  the  Lake  Lily  Club  to  up- 
hold the  club  honors  in  the  swimming  match,  came  out 
of  their  dressing-room  in  the  boathouse. 

Ward  Hammond  and  Dan  Matlock,  the  chosen  cham- 
pions of  the  other  club,  were  already  at  the  starting 
point,  and  the  spectators,  who  had  been  kept  so  long  in 
waiting,  were  growing  impatient  at  the  delay. 

"Oi'm  bettin'  thot  yez  kin  bate  thim  fellies  out  av 
soight,  Frankie,  me  b'y!"  cried  Barney,  jubilantly. 
"Thot  Hommond  sint  up  his  rooster  crowin'  a  bit  too 
soon,  so  he  did,  as  he'll  be  foindin'  out  moighty  quick, 
now!" 

"I'm  sure  we'll  do  our  best,  Barney,"  promised  Mer- 
riwell, touched  by  the  Irish  lad's  loyalty. 

"We  can  always  depend  on  you  for  that,  Merry!" 
said  Rattleton.  "We  want  you  to  beat  Hammond 
worse  than  you  did  in  the  shooting.  And  you  can  do 
it,  too!" 

"I  don't  doubt  he's  safe  enough  to  do  that,"  grum- 
bled Bruce,  who  had  come  down  to  the  boathouse  in 
spite  of  his  aching  head  and  generally  used-up  con- 
dition. "But  as  for  me !  Ugh !  I  wouldn't  leap  into 
that  water  for  wages.  It  makes  me  shiver  to  look 
at  it!" 

Rattleton  gave  a  wink  and  thrust  his  hands  into  his 
pockets.  Gallup  and  Mulloy  imitated  his  example,  and 
when  their  hands  came  out,  they  were  seen  to  contain 
each  a  number  of  white  capsules. 

"Take  another  dose  of  quineen,  and  keep  off  that 


By  the  Waters  of  Lake  Lily.          59 

chill,"  said  Rattleton,  extending  the  capsules  toward 
Bruce. 

"Gullup  daown  another  dost  of  quinine  an'  keep  off 
that  gol  darn  chill !"  cried  Ephraim,  pushing  the  cap- 
sules into  Browning's  face. 

"Swally  anither  dose  av  quoinin  an'  kape  aff  thot 
ager,"  advised  Barney,  doing  the  same. 

Browning  arose  to  his  feet  and  shook  his  fist  at  them 
in  mock  rage,  whereupon  they  dodged  backward  and 
made  a  feint  of  swallowing  the  capsules  themselves. 

"Mistah  Browning'll  make  you  have  wuss  dan  de 
fevah  an'  chilluns,"  warned  Toots.  "I's  su'mised  dat 
Mistah  Browning  ain't  feelin'  berry  good  dis  mawnin — 
no,  sar!" 

Suddenly  Browning  was  seen  to  straighten  up  and 
stare  toward  the  slope  where  the  benches  had  been 
placed. 

"There  she  is,"  he  whispered,  nodding  his  head  in 
that  direction. 

"She!  Who?  What  are  you  talking  about?"  de- 
manded Jack  Diamond. 

"Nell  Thornton !  Don't  look  at  her  right  now,  and 
all  at  once.  But  you  can  see  her  on  the  end  of  that 
farthest  bench.  The  slim  girl,  with  the  cotton  dress 
and  calico  sunbonnet.  Heavens!  I'm  glad  to  see  her, 
for  I  know  now  that  she  succeeded  in  pulling  the  wool 
over  the  eyes  of  that  villain,  Sam  Turner !" 

"And  she  has  come  here  for  no  other  purpose  than  to 
let  you  see  her,  so  that  you  may  know  that  she  is  safe," 
observed  Diamond. 

"I  believe  you  are  right,"  assented  Browning. 


60          By  the  Waters  of  Lake  Lily. 

Then  the  entire  party  went  out  to  the  edge  of  the 
boat  landing,  from  which  point  the  swimmers  were  to 
dive  and  begin  the  race. 

"Are  you  all  ready?"  asked  the  starter,  as  Merriwell 
and  Colson,  Hammond  and  Matlock  stood  up  side  by 
side,  and  faced  the  deep-blue  water  in  which  they  were 
to  contest  for  the  supremacy. 

"Ready!"  ran  along  the  line. 

"One,  two,  three — go!" 

At  the  word,  four  trim,  muscular  forms  flashed  in  the 
air,  shot  downward,  and  slipped  into  the  depths  with 
scarcely  a  splash. 

"They're  off !"  some  one  yelled. 

With  a  waving  of  handkerchiefs  and  a  fluttering  of 
fans  and  umbrellas,  the  spectators  began  to  cheer. 

Ward  Hammond  and  Frank  Merriwell  came  to  the 
surface  first,  with  Colson  and  Matlock  close  after  them. 
Hammond  was  a  full  yard  ahead  of  Frank,  and  the 
latter's  friends  saw  that  Merriwell  would  not  have  an 
easy  task  if  he  defeated  the  Glendale  youth,  who  seemed 
to  be  able  to  dive  and  swim  like  a  fish. 

But  Merriwell  was  not  worrying  over  the  outcome 
of  the  race.  He  knew  that  a  race  is  not  always  won  by 
a  brilliant  start,  and  that  the  final  stretch  is  what  tests 
the  strength  of  the  swimmer.  So  while  Ward  Hammond 
spurted  and  increased  his  lead,  Merriwell  swam  low 
and  easily,  with  his  head  well  back  on  his  shoulders, 
and  without  any  unnecessary  expenditure  of  muscle. 

Craig  Carter,  who  had  been  seated  in  a  boat  beside 
the  landing,  now  pushed  the  boat  off,  and  dropping  the 
oars  into  the  rowlocks,  prepared  to  follow  the  swim- 


By  the  Waters  of  Lake  Lily.          61 

mers  leisurely,  that  a  boat  might  be  at  hand  in  case  of 
accident.  Of  course,  he  was  one  of  Hammond's  most 
fiery  henchmen,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  show  his 
partiality  by  shouting  encouraging  cries  to  him. 

"That's  right,  Ward!  Give  full  spread  to  your 
hands  and  feet.  Gather  a  little  quicker,  frog  fashion. 
That's  right!  Go  it,  old  man!  They  can't  any  of 
them  beat  you !  Hurrah  for  the  Blue  Mountain  boys !" 

"I  hope  he'll  fall  out  of  that  boat  and  drown  him- 
self," was  Rattleton's  uncharitable  wish.  "He  actually 
makes  me  sick !" 

"His  friend  hasn't  won  the  race  yet,"  said  Diamond, 
studying  the  swimmers  with  a  critical  eye.  "Colson  is 
a  good  swimmer,  too,  isn't  he  ?  He's  coming  right  up 
alongside  of  Merriwell." 

The  race  was  to  a  stake,  set  far  enough  from  the 
shore  to  test  the  strength  and  wind  of  the  swimmers, 
thence  back  to  the  point  of  starting. 

Up  to  this  stake  and  around  it  Ward  Hammond  led, 
with  Merriwell  second,  Colson  third,  and  Matlock 
closely  crowding  Colson. 

When  the  stake  was  turned  and  the  swimmers  headed 
shoreward,  it  was  seen  that  Hammond  was  fully  six 
yards  in  the  lead. 

Craig  Carter  was  standing  up  in  his  boat,  alternately 
sculling  and  swinging  the  oar  aloft  to  give  emphasis  to 
his  Indian-like  yells,  and  the  excitement  among  the 
spectators  perceptibly  increased. 

"By  Jove!  I'm  afraid  Hammond  is  going  to  beat 
Merry!"  confessed  Bart  Hodge,  with  an  uneasy  shift- 


6a          By  the  Waters  of  Lake  Lily. 

ing  of  his  feet.  "See  him  spurt !  He  goes  through  the 
water  like  a  torpedo  boat!" 

"I'll  het  you  my  bat — I  mean  I'll  bet  you  my  hat — 
that  he  doesn't !"  averred  Rattleton,  whose  faith  in  Mer- 
riwell's  ability  was  always  supreme.  "Now  look,  will 
you?  Hurrah  for  Merry!  Talk  about  your  torpedo 
boats!  That's  the  stuff,  Frank!  Hooray!  hooray! 
hooray !" 

Rattleton  crowded  so  near  the  edge  of  the  landing 
that  he  was  in  danger  of  tumbling  into  the  water,  and 
there,  standing  on  tiptoe  and  swinging  his  cap,  he  sent 
his  shrill  cries  ringing  across  the  surface  of  the  lake. 

Merriwell  seemed  still  to  be  swimming  easily,  with 
his  body  well  under  and  his  head  poised  lightly  on  his 
shoulders,  but  it  was  observed  that  he  was  greatly  in- 
creasing his  speed.  Not  in  the  spurting,  jerky  manner 
of  Hammond,  but  with  a  steady  pull,  that  was  bound 
to  tell  in  the  outcome. 

The  spectators  noticed  this,  and  their  clamor  in- 
creased. One  solemn-looking  man  jumped  to  the  top 
of  a  tall  stump  and  capered  like  a  schoolboy,  while  a 
couple  of  Glendale's  severest  old  maids,  whom  nobody 
supposed  could  be  moved  to  any  show  of  emotion  by 
such  a  scene,  were  actually  seen  to  hug  each  other  and 
shed  tears. 

Inch  by  inch,  foot  by  foot,  and  yard  by  yard,  Frank 
gained  on  his  opponent  and  bitter  enemy.  His  head 
drew  alongside  of  Hammond's  thrashing  heels,  forged 
up  to  Hammond's  side,  came  up  to  Hammond's  shoul- 
'der  and  neck,  then  passed  him. 

Hammond  gave  his  antagonist  a  frightened  glance, 


By  the  Waters  of  lake  Lily.          63 

and  tried  to  swim  faster,  seeking  to  regain  his  lost 
ground  by  another  spurt.  But  he  had  seriously  winded 
himself,  and  he  found  the  feat  impossible. 

And  still  the  crowd  yelled,  and  whooped,  and  flut- 
tered handkerchiefs,  and  thumped  the  benches. 

Craig  Carter  had  long  ceased  his  insane  antics.  His 
face  wore  a  look  of  anxiety. 

Suddenly,  as  the  swimmers  were  drawing  past  a 
point  that  jutted  out  into  the  lake,  a  dog  sprang  into  the 
water  and  paddled  toward  them.  It  was  Craig  Car- 
ter's spaniel.  It  recognized  him  as  he  sat  in  the  boat, 
and  was  anxious  to  join  him.  The  boat  was  beyond 
the  swimmers,  and  the  dog,  in  attempting  to  reach  it, 
swam  against  Merriwell,  and  almost  lost  him  his  po- 
sition. Frank  lifted  himself  and  gave  the  spaniel  a 
heavy  shove,  which  caused  it  to  sink  beneath  the  sur- 
face. 

The  sight  threw  Craig  Carter  into  a  Tage.  He  was 
already  in  a  desperate  mood,  and  now  he  seemed  to  be- 
come furiously  insane. 

Merriwell  was  still  in  the  lead,  and  again  swimming. 
White  and  panting,  Carter  rose  to  his  feet,  lifted  an  oar 
with  both  hands  and  struck  at  Frank. 

It  was  a  cowardly  blow,  and  brought  cries  of 
"Shame !"  from  those  who  witnessed  it 

But  it  did  not  reach  Frank.  He  dived  like  a  flash, 
and  the  oar  struck  harmlessly  on  the  water. 

When  Frank  came  up,  he  was  seen  to  be  swimming 
neck  and  neck  with  Ward  Hammond,  and  the  goal  not 
a  dozen  yards  away. 

Then  pandemonium  again  broke  loose  on  the  shore. 


64          By  the  Waters  of  Lake  Lily, 

Inch  by  inch,  and  foot  by  foot,  Frank  again  drew 
ahead  of  his  antagonist.  The  crowd  yelled  like  mad. 
A  dozen  men  crowded  to  the  water's  edge  to  take  him 
by  the  hand,  for  they  saw  that  he  was  to  be  the  winner. 

In  vain  Ward  Hammond  threshed  and  flailed.  His 
wind  and  strength  were  gone. 

Merriwell  reached  the  landing  three  yards  in  the  lead, 
and  was  immediately  drawn  out  on  the  boards. 

Then,  all  wet  as  he  was,  he  was  hoisted  to  the  shoul- 
ders of  his  admirers — to  the  shoulders  of  men  who 
loved  pluck  and  fair  play — and  borne  around  the  boat- 
house,  while  they  bellowed  at  the  top  of  their  lungs : 

"See,  the  conquering  hero  comes !" 

After  that  there  were  exhibitions  of  fancy  diving 
and  swimming  by  Frank  Merriwell  and  others,  which 
were  not  taken  part  in  by  the  disgruntled  Hammond, 
however,  and  by  only  a  few  of  his  intimate  friends. 

Thus  the  swimming  ended,  to  the  entire  satisfaction 
of  those  who  had  waited  so  long  and  so  patiently  for 
its  beginning. 

"And  to-morrow  comes  that  mountain  climb,"  said 
Merriwell,  speaking  to  Colson,  when  they  were  again 
in  the  dressing-room.  "I  wonder  if  Hammond  will 
be  as  palpitatingly  anxious  for  that  as  he  was  for  this 
swim  ?" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A     FAIR     GUIDE. 

The  mountain  chosen  for  the  climb  was  one  of  the 
wildest  and  ruggedest  of  the  Blue  Ridge  range.  It 
rose  just  beyond  Blue  Mountain,  whereon  Hammond 
and  his  friends  had  their  summer  camp,  and  its  dark 
shadows  fell  afternoons  into  the  hollows  and  dells 
where  clung  the  cabins  of  the  poor  whites  who  recog- 
nized the  leadership  of  Bob  Thornton. 

"It's  not  a  pleasant  feat  to  contemplate,"  grumbled 
Bruce  Browning,  looking  from  the  door  of  the  cottage 
he  occupied  in  company  with  others,  and  staring  up  at 
the  half-naked  heights  that  thrust  themselves  skyward. 
"It's  much  prettier  at  a  distance.  I  haven't  any  sym- 
pathy for  these  fellows  who  form  Alpine  clubs,  to  bury 
themselves  in  snowdrifts  and  break  their  necks  in 
crevices,  when  they  might  be  staying  at  home,  sensibly 
enjoying  themselves." 

"I  don't  doubt  you're  really  wishing  for  a  rattling 
good  chill,"  laughed  Sep  Colson.  "It  would  be  such 
an  excellent  excuse  to  laze  all  day  in  that  hammock." 

"Hardly  that,"  grunted  Bruce.  "A  fellow  might  as 
well  wish  he'd  break  an  arm  to  get  out  of  the  job  of 
sawing  a  little  wood.  But,  seriously,  doesn't  it  seem  to 
you  a  great  waste  of  energy  for  a  mighty  little  return  to 
go  panting  up  that  mountain,  trying  to  beat  a  lot  of 
other  fellows  who  haven't  any  more  sense  than  you  ?" 


66  A  Fair  Guide. 

"No  more  of  that,"  cried  Rattleton,  coming  up  at 
that  moment,  and  overhearing  the  question.  "You're 
the  worst  grumbler  on  the  face  of  the  footstool,  Brown- 
ing. I  should  think  you'd  be  just  dancing  with  joy 
this  morning  to  think  how  you  slipped  through  that 
scrape  down  at  Thornton's.  And  if  there  is  anything 
prettier  than  that  mountain,  with  the  morning  mists 
creeping  around  it,  I  don't  know  what  it  is." 

"Oh,  it's  pretty  enough — at  a  distance!"  growled 
Bruce.  "And,  of  course,  I'm  going  with  you,  even  if 
I  haven't  got  over  that  headache  yet.  You  couldn't  get 
along  without  me." 

"Roight  yez  are  in  thot!"  declared  Barney  Mulloy, 
coming,  with  a  shining  face,  from  a  dip  in  the  lake. 
"Indade,  we  couldn't  git  on  widout  yez,  an'  it's  moighty 
bad  we  filt  whin  we  thought  ye  wur  dead." 

After  solemn  consultation  over  the  matter,  it  had 
been  determined  to  keep  Browning's  adventure  a  close 
secret.  It  would  be  difficult  to  prove  anything  against 
either  Sam  Turner,  Ward  Hammond  or  Bob  Thornton, 
and  the  effort  would  necessarily  involve  Nell  Thornton, 
whom  they  naturally  wished  to  protect,  and  not  injure. 

Bob  Thornton  had  not  been  seen,  and  it  was  reason- 
able to  suppose  that,  Turner's  attempt  having  failed,  he 
was  keeping  himself  out  of  sight,  and  would  continue 
to  do  so  until  the  supposed  revenue  officers  had  disap- 
peared from  the  neighborhood. 

The  starting  point  of  the  climb  was  a  glade  at  the 
foot  of  Bald  Mountain,  and  the  goal  a  flat  rock  beyond 
the  mountain's  outthrust  shoulder,  both  the  shoulder 
and  the  rock  being  well-known  landmarks. 


A  Fair  Guide.  67 

A  score  of  men  from  the  summer  cottages  in  the 
village  were  at  the  starting  point  when  Merri well's 
party  arrived,  and  two  had  been  sent  on  some  time  be- 
fore to  station  themselves  at  the  rock,  that  the  time  oc- 
cupied in  the  ascent  and  the  victors  in  the  contest  might 
be  accurately  determined. 

"Hammond's  fellows  don't  seem  to  be  here,"  de- 
clared Rattleton,  stabbing  his  alpinstock  in  the  ground, 
and  looking  about. 

"I  don't  doubt  they  will  come  all  right,"  Merriwell 
hastened  to  say. 

"Meebe  dey  ain'  got  ober  shoutin'  'bout  dat  swim 
yit !"  observed  Toots,  a  smile  of  pleasurable  recollection 
lighting  his  ebony  face. 

"Here  they  come,  just  the  same,"  announced  Bart 
Hodge.  "They've  got  sand,  and  that's  something  to 
praise  them  for.  It's  my  opinion,  too,  that  they'll  give 
us  a  hard  climb,  for  most  of  them  are  familiar  with 
these  mountains  and  hardened  to  such  work." 

Ward  Hammond  was  diplomatic  enough  on  his  ar- 
rival to  try  to  conceal  the  intense  hatred  he  felt  for 
Frank  Merriwell.  He  recognized  that  Craig  Carter 
had  made  a  sad  mess  of  it  by  striking  at  Frank  with 
the  oar.  Even  Hammond's  friends  had  denounced  this 
as  a  criminal  and  cowardly  piece  of  work. 

As  for  Craig,  he  held  himself  aloof  from  the  joking 
and  conversation,  and  was  not  without  a  fear  that  Mer- 
riwell would  seek  to  punish  him  yet  for  his  contemp- 
tible conduct. 

But  Merriwell's  victory  in  the  swimming  match  had 


68  A  Fair  Guide. 

been  so  complete  that  he  chose  to  pass  the  matter  by 
without  comment,  instead  of  dealing  blow  for  blow. 

The  starter  looked  at  his  watch. 

"The  party,  or  any  member  of  either  party,  that 
reaches  the  rock  first  is  to  be  counted  winner.  The  ob- 
ject is  to  reach  the  rock  in  the  shortest  possible  time." 

Browning  glanced  up  at  the  mountain,  and  groaned, 
as  Merriwell  grouped  his  party,  and  the  boys  broke  into 
a  hearty  laugh. 

"It  is  now  nine  o'clock,"  said  the  starter,  when  all 
were  ready.  "You  ought  to  do  it  in  two  hours,  or 
less.  I  won't  attempt  to  give  you  any  advice.  You 
know  what's  before  you.  Go !" 

Ward  Hammond  led  off  at  a  sharp  run,  swinging  his 
alpinstock  and  taking  the  path  that  led  toward  the 
right,  while  Sep  Colson,  who  had  been  chosen  to  lead 
the  Lake  Lily  Club,  because  of  his  greater  familiarity 
with  the  ground  to  be  covered,  swung  into  the  path 
that  wound  around  the  mountain  on  the  left. 

"It's  a  little  farther,"  he  said,  "but  the  traveling  is 
easier,  and  we'll  make  better  time." 

Frank  Merriwell  crowded  close  to  Colson's  heels, 
and  others  fell  in  behind  him,  with  Hans  Dunnerwust 
bringing  up  the  rear. 

"Yes,  this  is  what  I  call  fun !"  grunted  Browning,  as 
a  bowlder  slipped  under  him  and  he  half  fell. 

"Be  afther  takin'  a  little  more  quoinin'  to  roise  yer 
spairts,"  advised  Barney  Mulloy,  with  a  grin. 

When  more  than  half  a  mile  had  been  passed  over, 
and  they  were  jogging  down  a  declivity  at  a  lively 


A  Fair  Guide.  69 

pace,  Colson  stopped  so  suddenly  that  Merriwell  fairly 
tumbled  over  him. 

"What  is  it?"  Frank  questioned. 

"Look  there!  There's  Nell  Thornton  waving 
to  us." 

"V 

"She  wants  to  speak  to  us,"  said  Rattleton,  looking 
in  the  direction  indicated  by  Colson's  pointing  finger. 

Bruce  straightened  up  and  forgot  to  grumble,  when 
he  saw  the  slim  form  of  the  girl  descending  the  rocks. 

She  was  letting  herself  down  a  precipitous  bluff, 
clinging  to  the  vines  and  bushes. 

"She  can  get  over  places  I  shouldn't  care  to  try,"  de- 
clared Bruce,  with  an  admiration  that  was  akin  to  en- 
thusiasm. "I  wonder  what  she  wants  ?" 

"We  shall  find  out  very  soon  now,"  said  Merriwell. 
"It  won't  take  her  long  to  reach  us." 

Dropping  to  the  level  ground,  Nell  came  shyly  to- 
ward the  party,  with  evident  embarrassment 

"Do  you  uns  want  ter  beat  them  thar  other  fellows 
bad  ?"  she  asked. 

"The  worst  kind,"  declared  Rattleton. 

"Thar's  a  way  it  kin  be  done,"  she  said,  with  kin- 
dling glance,  "ef  so  be  ez  you  uns  air  good  climb- 
ers. Thar's  a  path  which  the  mounting  men  foller 
when  they  air  in  a  hurry,  sech  o'  them  ez  knows  'bout 
it.  I  kin  show  it  ter  ye,  though  ef  dad  knowed  I  done 
it  he'd  jes'  nacherly  kill  me!" 

"You  may  show  it  to  us  with  perfect  safety,"  prom- 
ised Merriwell. 

She  gave  a  quick  glance  toward  Browning,  as  if  for 
confirmation  of  the  promise. 


70  A  Fair  Guide. 

Browning  flushed. 

"As  Mr.  Merriwell  says,  the  secret  will  be  perfectly 
safe  with  us,  Miss  Thornton,"  touching  his  cap.  "You 
may  rely  on  it!" 

"I  kinder  sorter  wanted  you  uns  ter  beat  'em,"  she 
confessed,  "an'  it'll  pleasure  me  ter  help  you  ter  do  it 
You  uns'll  hev  ter  shin  up  that  thar  bluff  somehow 
er  'nuther  ter  git  a  start." 

She  pointed  to  the  precipice  down  which  she  had 
swung,  and  Browning  gave  an  inward  groan. 

"Heavens!"  he  inaudibly  grumbled.  "She  must 
want  to  see  me  killed.  Those  vines  will  come  down 
like  cotton  strings  when  I  put  my  weight  on  them." 

Merriwell  nodded,  and  the  girl  led  the  way  to  the 
bluff. 

"Take  holt  o'  that  thar  saplin'  an'  that'll  holp  you 
ter  reach  the  cedar.  Then  grab  them  vines  an'  git 
along  ez  best  ye  kin.  Them  vines'll  bear  a  good  heft, 
an'  ye  needn't  be  skeered  uv  'em." 

Having  said  this,  with  pointing  finger,  she  stepped 
aside.  Frank  Merriwell  grasped  the  slim  hickory  and 
drew  himself  up  to  the  scrubby  cedar  that  here  thrust 
its  roots  into  a  crack  in  the  ledge. 

He  was  followed  by  Colson  and  Rattleton.  Then 
came  Bart  Hodge  and  Jack  Diamond. 

The  climb  was  not  so  difficult  as  it  looked.  Some 
of  the  smaller  vines  broke  under  the  weight  of  Brown- 
ing, and  of  Ephraim  Gallup,  but  in  a  comparatively 
short  time  all  were  at  the  top  of  the  bluff. 

The  girl  swung  herself  up  after  them,  and  pointed 


A  Fair  Guide.  71 

to  a  dim  path  leading  through  a  thicket  of  laurel 
straight  toward  the  frowning  cap  of  the  mountain. 

"Thars  yer  way!"  she  whispered.  "I  see  ye've  got 
a  rope  fer  ther  bad  places.  Two  or  three  uv  'em'll 
maybe  hump  ye,  but  I'm  sure  you  uns,  by  holpin'  each 
other,  kin  make  it.  An'  it'll  save  ye  nigh  about  half 
the  distance." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Frank,  as  she  turned  away. 
"You  have  placed  us  under  great  obligations." 

This  time  Merriwell  took  the  lead,  plunging  into  the 
laurel,  for  the  route  was  an  unknown  one  to  all.  He 
hurried  forward  as  rapidly  as  the  ground  would  admit. 

A  number  of  hogs  of  the  razorback  variety  leaped 
up  in  front  of  him  and  scurried  out  of  sight. 

<rLook  out  that  you  don't  get  bitten,"  shouted  Rattle- 
ton,  with  a  laugh.  "Those  are  wild  hogs,  you  must 
understand,  and  you'd  better  not  crowd  them." 

The  hogs  looked  fierce  enough  to  justify  Rattleton's 
assertion. 

"A  boar  hunt  in  these  hills  wouldn't  be  bad,"  said 
Hodge.  "One  of  those  fellows  had  tusks  like  razors." 

They  soon  found  abundant  use  for  the  rope,  of 
_  which  Nell  Thornton  had  spoken,  and  for  the  stout 
alpinstocks  they  had  provided  as  well.  The  way  was 
rough  and  steep,  and  they  quickly  came  to  a  series  of 
benches,  where  the  rope  was  found  invaluable. 

"This  is  what  I  call  tough,"  grunted  Browning, 
mopping  his  heated  face  at  the  end  of  one  of  these 
climbs. 

"Cyant  hab  no  chillins,  an'  fevah,  dough,  Mistah 


•jz  A  Fair  Guide. 

Browning,  when  you  sweat  dat  way,"  laughed  Toots. 
"Dis  clamb  is  gwan  ter  cure  yeh." 

"Or  kill  me !"  Bruce  growled. 

"I  wonder  how  these  other  fellows  are  getting  on  ?" 
said  Hodge. 

"I  don't  doubt  they're  going  faster  than  we  are,"  an- 
swered Merriwell.  "But  I'm  depending  on  the  judg- 
ment of  that  girl,  and  you  know  that  we  have  the  best 
of  authority  for  believing  that  the  race  is  not  always 
to  the  swift." 

"Or  the  battle  to  the  strong!"  chimed  in  Diamond, 
completing  the  quotation. 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  laughed  Rattleton. 

"Mr.  Rattleton,  what  are  you  grinning  about  now  ?" 
queried  Hodge. 

"I  was  just  thinking  that  if  the  battle  were  always 
to  the  strong,  what  a  fight  a  polecat  would  put  up!" 
answered  Rattleton,  with  another  shout. 

"I  believe,  by  chaowder,  they  air  the  strongest  things 
on  earth,"  declared  the  boy  from  Vermont,  with  a 
smile.  "I  tried  to  poke  one  out  of  dad's  old  barn  once, 
an'  I  thought  it  would  lift  the  roof,  b'gosh !" 

Higher  and  higher  the  dim  path  led,  zigzagging  at 
times,  crossing  perilous  crevices,  which  they  were 
forced  to  leap,  dipping  into  narrow  gorges,  through 
which  ran  icy  streams  of  water  from  hidden  springs. 

"I  tell  you  we're  nearing  the  top!"  cried  Rattleton, 
with  a  burst  of  enthusiasm. 

Merriwell  looked  at  his  watch. 

"We've  already  been  an  hour  on  the  way,"  he  de- 
clared. "That  starter  thought  the  climb  could  be 


A  Fair  Guide.  73 

made  in  two  hours.  We  may  have  to  cross  that  rocky 
shoulder  yet." 

"No,  we  shall  not  have  to  cross  it/'  said  Hodge.  "I 
caught  a  view  of  the  path  from  that  other  slope  a  while 
ago,  and  it  swings  under  the  point  instead  of  over  it." 

"Hello !  I  don't  know  about  this !"  cried  Merriwell, 
coming  to  a  full  stop  at  another  bend. 

The  path  ended  at  the  foot  of  a  flat  rock  that  rose 
upward  like  the  wall. 

"We've  got  to  get  up  there  somehow,"  asserted  Dia- 
mond. "The  path  will  be  found  again  at  the  top." 

Browning  stepped  forward. 

"There's  only  one  way,  fellows.  I  understand  now 
just  what  Nell  meant  when  she  said  we'd  have  to  help 
each  other.  Climb  up  on  my  shoulders  here,  Gallup. 
You're  the  longest  and  can  reach  that  notch  with  your 
hands.  Perhaps  Hans  had  better  go  next." 

"By  gum!  he  ain't  here!"  snorted  Gallup,  staring 
around. 

"He  must  have  got  tired  and  stopped,"  said  Merri- 
well. "We  can't  wait  for  him.  We  may  lose  the  race 
if  we  do.  And  it  will  punish  him  right,  when  he 
comes  to  this  place  and  finds  he  can't  get  up." 

"We'll  come  back  and  lower  the  rope  for  him."  said 
Browning,  putting  himself  in  position  against  the  wall 
of  rock.  "As  Merriwell  says,  we  haven't  any  time 
to  lose." 

Gallup  glanced  quizzically  upward,  then  gave  his 
hand  to  Merriwell,  and  was  assisted  to  Browning's 
broad  shoulders. 

"No  fooling,"  grunted  Browning.     "If  T've  got  to 


74  A  Fair  Guide. 

play  the  strong  man  in  this  game  of  high  and  lofty 
tumbling,  I  want  you  fellows  to  get  a  move  on  you. 
Gallup  alone  feels  as  if  he  weighs  a  ton." 

Barney  climbed  to  Gallup's  shoulders,  and  Merri- 
well  came  next,  carrying  the  rope. 

Standing  on  Barney's  shoulders,  he  was  able  to 
grasp  the  branches  of  a  tree  that  hung  down  at  that 
point,  and  scrambled  quickly  on  to  the  top  of  the  bluff. 

"Yes,  the  path  is  up  here,"  he  shouted  back,  letting 
down  an  end  of  the  rope.  "Put  that  loop  around  your 
waist,  Diamond,  and  I'll  pull  as  you  climb.  You'll 
find  it  will  be  a  good  deal  easier." 

"You'd  better  hurry  on  without  me,"  advised 
Browning,  when  all  were  at  the  top  but  himself. 
"You'll  lose  valuable  time  trying  to  get  me  up  there, 
and  it's  not  necessary." 

"We'll  have  you  up  in  just  a  moment,"  promised 
Merriwell.  "Take  a  seat  in  that  loop.  You  won't 
need  to  do  much,  only  keep  yourself  from  scratching 
scales  off  the  rock.  There's  enough  of  us  up  here  to 
lift  you,  and  the  rope  is  strong.  Bring  up  the  alpin- 
stocks  that  were  dropped,  too.  We  may  need  them 
again." 

"Well,  if  I  must,  I  must !"  grumbled  Browning,  who 
would  not  have  been  sorry  if  they  had  gone  on  with- 
out him.  "Haul  away.  And  remember  that  my  life 
isn't  insured." 

It  was  no  easy  task  to  lift  him  to  the  top,  but  it  was 
accomplished  without  mishap. 

"No  Hans  in  sight  yet,"  said  Merriwell. 


A  Fair  Guide.  75 

Rattleton,  who  was  running  up  the  path,  was  heard 
to  give  a  whoop. 

"Fellows,  we're  right  there !"  he  announced,  hasten- 
ing back  to  bear  the  glad  tidings.  "I  took  a  peep 
through  the  bushes,  and  the  rock  isn't  a  hundred  yards 
away.  I  saw  the  men  who  were  sent  up  here  stand- 
ing by  it,  and  there  wasn't  another  soul  in  sight." 

Merriwell  looked  at  his  watch  again. 

"An  hour  and  twenty  minutes  since  we  started. 
Lead  on,  Rattleton.  If  you've  seen  the  rock,  you  may 
act. as  guide.  We're  after  you." 

Rattleton  dived  into  the  bushes  again  with  a  whoop, 
closely  followed  by  Merriwell,  who  saw  in  a  few  mo- 
ments that  Harry  was  right. 

The  goal  was  just  before  them,  with  only  the  time- 
keepers there,  and  they  had  won  the  race! 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  VALIANT   DUTCH    BOY. 

Where  was  Hans? 

The  Dutch  boy,  who  by  reason  of  his  roly-poly 
body  and  fat,  short  legs,  was  not  well  adapted  to 
mountain  climbing,  was  much  fatigued  by  the  head- 
long haste  with  which  his  friends  proceeded. 

"Some  volks  peen  plame  vools  enough  to  call  doy 
sbort,"  he  secretly  grumbled,  panting  along  at  the  heels 
of  the  procession.  "Maype  it  vos  sbort  vor  me,  alretty, 
py  shimminy!  put  don't  you  pelief  me!  Ven  I  vos 
caughd  py  a  voolishness  like  dot  again,  I  hope  I  vill 
gick  someboty." 

He  was  stumping  along  in  this  manner,  dropping 
gradually  behind,  when  at  a  short  turn  in  the  path 
his  friends  vanished.  At  the  same  moment  a  pebble 
that  had  found  its  way  into  one  of  his  shoes  began  to 
cut  his  foot  so  that  he  could  hardly  walk. 

"Wa-ow!"  he  gurgled.  "Dot  feel  shust  like  I  pit  a 
snake  by.  Dunder  and  blitzens!  Dot  toe  vos  cud  off, 
I  pelief  me!" 

He  stared  along  at  the  dim  path  and  at  the  bushes 
beyond  which  he  heard  the  voices  of  his  friends,  then 
plumped  himself  down  on  a  rock  and  began  hastily  to 
unloose  the  shoe  lace. 

"Uf  I  get  oudt  uf  dis  scrabe,  anudder  vun  von't  go 
into  me  right  avay,  I  dell  you !"  he  muttered.  "I  haf 


The  Valiant  Dutch  Boy.  77 

to  haf  a  boultice  vor  dot  toe,  I  pelief  me,  der  vay  id 
veels.  Waow !" 

He  pulled  off  the  shoe  with  a  jerk,  felt  of  the  in- 
jured toe,  and  gave  the  shoe  a  shake  to  remove  the 
pebble. 

It  rolled  out,  a  tiny  thing,  not  larger  than  a  small 
shot,  but  with  a  cutting  edge  almost  as  hard  as  a 
diamond. 

"Some  liddle  dhings  make  a  pigger  vuss  dan " 

He  cocked  an  ear  around,  and  listened  for  the  voices, 
but  they  were  no  longer  to  be  heard. 

"Shimminy  Christmas !  Dose  vellers  gid  along  like 
shain  lighdnings.  I  vos  half  to  hurry  uf  dey  gacht  me 
oop,  I  tolt  you !" 

He  crowded  his  foot  back  into  the  shoe,  hurriedly 
laced  and  tied  it,  then  picked  up  his  alpinstock  and  set 
his  short  legs  in  motion. 

But  it  was  a  hopeless  chase.  They  were  swinging 
on  at  a  swift  pace,  and  had  gained  so  much  that  it  was 
quite  impossible  for  the  Dutch  boy  to  come  up  with 
them. 

Discovering  this,  he  became  terrified. 

"Vot  uf  dose  shinermoons  shoult  pe  hiding  dese 
pushes  behint,  und  kilt  myselluf  mit  a  club  der  head 
ofer?"  he  panted,  staring  about  in  wild-eyed  expec- 
tancy. 

He  heard  a  movement  in  the  bushes,  which  almost 
raised  the  hair  on  his  head.  The  brush  cracked.  The 
sound  came  toward  him. 

He  dropped  his  alpinstock  and  turned  to  run,  but  his 


78  The  Valiant  Dutch  Boy. 

short,  fat  legs  became  so  weak  they  would  not  sustain 
him. 

He  dropped  to  his  knees  with  a  bellow  of  fright,  and 
pleadingly  threw  up  his  hands. 

The  brush  cracked  again,  sending  cold  shivers  up 
the  Dutch  boy's  back,  and  a  lean  sow,  followed  by  three 
or  four  thin,  sharp-backed  pigs,  came  into  view. 

Hans  scrambled  up,  with  a  screech  of  fear. 

"Vilt  hocks!"  he  squawked.  "Shimminy  Christ- 
mas !  I  vos  deat  alretty  yet !" 

The  sow  ridged  the  rough  bristles  along  her  spine 
and  made  a  sound  which  Hans  thought  her  battle  cry. 

He  gave  another  squawk  and  dived  for  the  nearest 
tree.  Into  its  low  branches  he  scrambled,  throwing  his 
feet  across  a  bough  and  pulling  himself  by  his  hands. 

As  it  chanced,  the  tree  was  in  the  direct  line  of  the 
sow's  flight.  She  dashed  toward  it,  bringing  another 
squeal  of  fear  from  Hans,  and  the  pigs  scampered  at 
her  heels. 

While  hanging  in  this  inverted  position,  with  his 
cap  gone  and  his  pockets  upside  down,  some  peanuts 
that  Hans  had  thrust  into  a  pocket  to  munch  on  the 
mountain  climb,  dropped  out  to  the  ground. 

One  of  the  pigs  saw  and  scented  them.  Its  chronic 
hunger  overcame  its  fright,  and,  while  its  mother  and 
the  other  members  of  the  porcine  family  bounded  on 
into  the  depths  of  the  laurel  it  stopped  and  began  to 
munch  the  peanuts. 

"I  vos  a  deat  mans !"  gurgled  Hans,  fairly  paralyzed 
by  terror.  "He  vos  going  to  ead  up  dose  beanuds 


The  Valiant  Dutch  Boy.  79 

und  my  gap,  und  den  he  vill  glimb  dese  dree  ub  und  I 
vill  ead  heem!  Hel-lup!  hel-lup!" 

Now  and  then  a  peanut  spilled  out  of  the  pocket, 
and  when  the  pig  had  devoured  all,  it  looked  up  at  the 
peanut  fountain  for  more,  placing  itself  directly  under 
Hans  with  its  mouth  expectantly  open. 

"Oh,  I  vos  deat!  I  vos  kilt!"  he  howled.  "Some- 
boty  gome  guick  und  shood  me,  so  dot  I  von't  ead 
mineselluf  ub!" 

It  was  impossible  for  him  to  climb  higher,  both  on 
account  of  his  weakness,  and  the  springy  nature  of  the 
bough,  and  he  was  dimly  conscious  of  the  fact  that  he 
could  not  hold  on  much  longer. 

Ordinarily,  the  pig  would  have  fled  from  him,  but  its 
hunger  now  caused  it  to  half  lift  itself  on  its  hind  legs 
and  stretch  its  long  nose  up  toward  him. 

In  that  moment  of  supreme  terror  the  Dutch  boy's 
strength  entirely  deserted  him,  and  he  fell  from  the 
bough,  striking  the  pig  directly  in  the  center  of  the 
back. 

It  went  down  with  a  squeal.  Hans  rolled  quickly 
over  and  tried  to  scramble  to  his  feet.  He  could  do 
nothing,  however,  but  thresh  his  heel  in  the  air  and 
bellow  for  assistance. 

After  a  while  it  began  to  dawn  on  him  that  the 
dreaded  monster  was  not  devouring  him  alive,  as  he 
had  fully  expected,  and  that,  since  his  fall,  he  had  not 
heard  a  sound,  except  such  as  he  made  himself. 

"Id  vos  skeert  me  avay,"  he  thought,  stopping  his 
flailing  heels  and  turning  his  head  slowly  to  the  point 


8o  The  Valiant  Dutch  Boy. 

where  the  ravenous  beast  might  be  expected  fo  be 
seen. 

He  lifted  himself  slowly  on  his  hands  and  stared,  his 
eyes  rounding  out  in  astonishment. 

The  pig  lay  on  the  ground  as  if  dead. 

"Id  vos  maging  a  vool  uf  me,  maype,"  he  reflected. 
"It  vos  shust  agting  like  I  vos  deat.  Id  shust  vant  to 
play  mit  me,  like  I  vos  a  gat  und  id  vos  a  mouses." 

Still,  when  the  pig  maintained  that  strange  silence, 
Dunnerwust's  courage  began  to  come  back. 

He  lifted  himself  still  higher,  ready  to  drop  down 
and  play  the  game  of  "  'possum"  for  all  it  was  worth  if 
the  pig  showed  signs  of  life  and  pugnacity.  Still,  the 
pig  did  not  move. 

Hans  rolled  over,  and  slowly  got  on  his  hands  and 
knees,  then  lifted  himself  to  a  standing  position,  ready 
to  run  if  the  pig  so  much  as  moved. 

"It  maype  is  sdill  voolin'  me,  alretty  yet!"  he  gur- 
gled. "Dere  vos  no  tepending  on  me  somedimes.  I 
haf  heert  apout  dose  vilt  peasts  dot  blay  sleeby  to  vool 
demselves  like  dot !" 

But  the  pig  was  dead.  There  could  be  no  doubt  of 
it,  and  if  Hans  had  not  been  insane  from  fright,  he 
must  have  discovered  the  fact  sooner.  He  had  struck 
with  all  his  weight,  and  that  was  not  small,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  pig's  curved  spine,  and  had  snapped  it  as  if 
it  were  a  pipestem. 

"Whoop !"  he  yelled,  as  soon  as  he  was  sure  the  pig 
was  dead.  "Dot  vos  a  recklar  knock-oud,  you  pet 
me !  He  vos  kilt  me  der  virst  lick !" 

Then,  to  make  sure  that  the  pig  could  not  by  any 


The  Valiant  Dutch  Boy.  81 

possibility  come  back  to  life  to  frighten  him  again,  he 
picked  up  an  enormous  club,  and  proceeded  to  belabor 
it  to  such  an  extent  that  if  there  had  been  any  life  re- 
maining in  the  pig's  body,  it  would  have  been  beaten 
out. 

Having  done  this,  Hans  walked  around  his  fallen 
foe  with  the  victorious  air  of  a  conquering  hero,  utter- 
ing exclamations  of  delight,  and  figuratively  patting 
himself  on  the  back  for  his  valor. 

"Who  vos  a  cowart?"  he  demanded,  squaring  his 
shoulders  and  striking  out  at  imaginary  foes.  "I 
vould  bunch  mine  heat  uf  you  sait  nottings  like  dot, 
Hans  Dunnerwust,  you  vos  der  pinking  uf  vighting 
mans  dis  moindain  on,  und  don'd  let  dot  vorget  me !  I 
pet  him  you  vos  der  beacherino  uf  der  Lilywhites !" 

Then,  still  strutting  like  a  peacock,  he  threw  the 
'dead  pig  over  his  shoulders,  picked  up  his  alpinstock, 
and  marched  along  the  path  like  a  high-stepping  horse. 

From  the  top  of  the  bluff,  where  his  friends  had 
found  their  way  seemingly  blocked,  he  heard  voices 
calling  to  him — the  voices  of  Harry  Rattleton  and 
Jack  Diamond,  who  had  turned  back  to  search  for  him. 

Hans  answered,  with  a  squeak  of  delight. 

"See  dot!"  he  cried,  taking  the  pig  from  his  shoul- 
ders and  holding  it  above  his  head.  "Dot  vos  a  vilt 
hock  vot  kilt  me  ven  I  dried  to  ead  him  ub!  I  vos  a 
fighder,  I  tolt  you,  ven  I  ged  him  starded !" 

It  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  Ward  Ham- 
mond concealed  his  intense  chagrin  and  bitter  hate 
when  he  arrived  with  his  companions  at  the  goal  of  the 
mountain-climbing  race  and  found  that  Frank  Merri- 


82  The  Valiant  Dutch  Boy. 

well's  party  had  beaten  them  by  more  than  thirty 
minutes. 

"It's  all  right,"  he  said,  with  a  sickly  smile. 
"Though  I  do  think  you  fellows  must  have  had  wings 
hidden  about  you  to  get  here  so  soon.  But  wings 
weren't  barred.  Of  course,  we  wanted  to  win,  but  we 
didn't,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

While  he  was  talking,  old  Bob  Thornton,  carrying 
the  long  rifle  that  Sam  Turner  had  taken  from  its  peg 
in  the  cabin,  was  creeping  through  the  laurel  and  over 
the  vines  toward  a  point  of  rocks  that  commanded  a 
view  of  the  path  by  which  he  was  sure  Merriwell  and 
his  friends  would  descend  from  the  mountains. 

He  did  not  try  to  conceal  his  bitter  hate,  as  Ham- 
mond was  doing.  His  mind  was  inflamed  with  the 
angriest  of  passions,  for  Hammond  had  made  him  be- 
lieve that  the  mountain  climb  was  an  excuse  on  the 
part  of  Merriwell  to  get  into  these  hills,  where  Thorn- 
ton's little  copper  still,  for  making  liquor,  lay  hidden. 

The  ravine  that  held  it  was  less  than  a  mile  from 
the  top  of  Bald  Mountain,  in  a  wild  and  almost  inac- 
cessible gorge,  and  he  was  fairly  shaking  with  the  fear 
that  Merriwell  had  spotted  the  gorge  from  the  moun- 
tain's top,  and  would  try  to  enter  it  later  in  the  day. 

"He'll  never  hunt  anuther  still  ef  I  git  a  good  crack 
at  him!"  the  mountaineer  growled.  "The  guv'ment's 
got  ter  be  larnt  that  it  jes'  ain't  ary  bit  o'  use  to  send 
revnoo  spies  peekin'  'roun'  hyar.  We  uns  o'  Bald 
Mounting  won't  stan'  it !" 

Ward  Hammond  dissembled  with  considerable  skill. 
He  laughed,  joked  and  praised  the  climbing  of  the 


The  Valiant  Dutch  Boy.  83 

members  of  the  Lake  Lily  Club,  all  the  while  wonder- 
ing if  Bob  Thornton  would  try  the  shot  he  threatened, 
and  hoping  that  the  bullet  would  at  least  maim  Merri- 
well  for  life. 

Hammond  held  by  inheritance  from  these  rude 
mountaineers  the  fierce  hate  that  made  them  such  a  ter- 
ror to  their  foes,  and  caused  among  them  such  bloody 
feuds.  In  him  Frank  Merriwell  had  an  enemy  to  be 
feared. 

He  had  a  purpose  in  playing  a  friendly  part  that  day, 
and  in  staying  with  Frank's  party.  He  fancied  that 
if  Merriwell  should  be  killed  by  a  shot  sent  from  the 
woods  by  an  unseen  hand,  he  might  be  suspected  as 
the  shooter,  which  could  not  be  the  case  if  he  remained 
at  Merriwell's  side. 

"Hammond  doesn't  seem  so  bitter  as  we've  been  led 
to  believe,"  declared  Rattleton,  speaking  to  Bart 
Hodge.  "Perhaps  he's  been  painted  a  good  deal 
blacker  than  he  really  is." 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Hodge,  who  more  than  once  had 
been  made  uneasy  by  the  accounts  given  by  Colson  and 
others  of  Hammond's  fire-eating  and  unforgiving 
spirit.  "He  seems  pleasant  enough  to-day,  at  any 
rate." 

Without  a  thought  of  danger,  Frank  descended  the 
mountain  path,  laughing  and  joking. 

Bob  Thornton  was  still  stealing  through  the  bushes, 
with  the  long  rifle  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm. 

But  there  was  another  stealing  after  him,  with  bated 
breath  and  shining  eyes.  Nell  Thornton,  his  daugh- 
ter, who,  having  observed  his  movements,  suspected  his 


84  The  Valiant  Dutch  Boy. 

evil  intentions,  and  was  now  following  to  thwart  them 
if  she  could. 

When  he  reached  the  rocky  point,  from  which  he 
expected  to  send  the  shot,  and  from  which  he  could 
dive  into  a  jungly  growth  that  would  protect  him  from 
view  and  pursuit,  Nell  was  close  at  his  heels,  though  he 
was  still  unaware  of  it. 

His  face  darkened  as  he  dropped  the  rifle  out  of  the 
hollow  of  his  arm  and  inspected  the  percussion  cap, 
when  Merriwell  and  the  others  came  into  view  around 
a  bend  in  the  path. 

"He'll  never  hunt  anuther  moonshiner!"  Thornton 
grated,  through  his  set  teeth.  "He'd  better  be  a-sayin' 
of  his  prayers  when  I  pull  down  on  him  with  this 
ole  Bet!"  " 

Nell  heard  the  grated  threat,  arid  shivered,  but  the 
look  of  determination  grew  in  her  white,  thin  face  and 
shone  brighter  in  her  glittering  eyes. 

Thornton  waited  until  the  party  was  near  enough  to 
make  the  shot  safe,  but  still  far  enough  off  to  enable 
him  to  plunge  into  the  undergrowth  and  lose  himself 
to  pursuit  before  any  one  could  reach  him. 

Then  he  threw  the  long  rifle  to  his  cheek,  ran  his 
eyes  down  the  brown  barrel,  and  covered  Frank  Mer- 
riwell's  heart  with  the  sights.  Though  his  eyes  were 
blazing,  his  muscles  seemed  as  steady  as  iron. 

The  finger  pressed  the  trigger,  and  there  was  a 
whip-like  report. 

But  the  bullet  did  not  reach  Frank  Merriwell ! 

Just  as  Thornton's  ringer  pressed  on  the  trigger, 


The  Valiant  Dutch  Boy.  85 

Nell  leaped  from  the  bushes  that  screened  her  and 
caught  at  his  arm,  thrusting  the  rifle  aside. 

With  a  shriek,  Ward  Hammond  threw  up  his  arms 
and  dropped  to  the  ground. 

The  bullet  intended  for  Merriwell  had  lodged  in  the 
body  of  his  enemy. 


CHAPTER  X. 
NELL' s  LETTER. 

"How  is  Hammond  this  morning?"  Frank  anx- 
iously asked  of  Browning,  whom  he  joined  near  the 
boathouse.  "Have  the  doctors  found  the  bullet  yet?" 

Bruce  had  just  come  from  the  village,  whither  he 
had  gone  to  make  inquiry  concerning  Hammond's  con- 
dition. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  as  they  walked  together  toward 
the  cottage.  "They  extracted  it  this  morning.  It 
struck  a  rib,  and  the  wound  isn't  as  bad  as  it  might  be. 
He'll  be  laid  up  for  a  time,  they  say.  There  is  no 
question  but  that  he'll  get  well." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  was  Frank's  sincere  rejoinder. 
"I  thought  he  was  a  goner  when  I  saw  him  drop  near 
me  at  the  crack  of  that  gun." 

"Hello!  what's  this?"  Bruce  exclaimed,  a  moment 
later,  as  they  entered  his  room. 

He  stepped  quickly  to  the  little  table,  and  took  up  a 
bunch  of  flowers,  to  which  was  tied  a  note,  oddly 
scrawled  and  spelled. 

It  was  from  Nell  Thornton,  and  this  is  what  it  said : 

"I  am  ergoin'  ter  slip  in  an'  put  these  on  yer  table, 
'ca'se  I  hav'  heern  that  grand  folks  like  'em,  an'  leeve 
this  letter  'bout  dad,  'ca'se  I  thot  mebbe  ez  how  you 
uns  would  want  ter  knowl.  He  hez  knocked  a  hole  in 


Nell's  Letter.  87 

his  ole  still,  an'  is  ergoin'  ter  leeve  these  mountings,  he 
sez,  an'  try  ter  be  'spectable.     So  good-by.     I  node 
frum  the  fust  thet  you  warnt  no  revnoo. 
"Frum  your  fr'end  furever, 

"NELL  THORNTON." 

"She's  an  all-right  girl,"  said  Bruce,  after  a  pause, 
"even  if  she  is  rather  awkward." 

"Bedad,  we  had  better  be  gittin'  out  av  the  mountains 
before  some  more  shootin'  takes  place,"  put  in  Barney. 

"That's  right,"  came  from  Harry.  "One  shot  like 
that  is  enough." 

But  the  boys  lingered  for  several  days,  and  during 
that  time  their  newly  made  friends  did  all  possible  to 
make  the  stay  a  pleasant  one. 

"We  won't  forget  you  Yale  boys!"  cried  one,  on 
parting.  "Let  us  hear  from  you,  by  all  means." 

"Ve  vill,"  said  Hans.  "Put  don't  neffer  oxbect  me 
to  kill  some  more  piks  py  mineselluf  again  alretty!" 

There  was  a  gay  time  at  the  parting,  for  a  crowd  had 
come  to  see  them  off  as  far  as  the  railroad  station. 

It  had  been  decided  to  make  their  way  eastward  to 
the  Potomac  River,  for  Diamond  wanted  to  show  his 
friends  that  beautiful  stream  of  water. 

"I've  sailed  on  the  Potomac  many  times  when  at 
home,"  said  the  Virginian.  "And  I  want  to  give  you 
boys  a  sail,  too." 

"All  right — anything  to  take  it  easy,"  sighed  Bruce. 
"That  mountain  climbing  was  work  enough  to  last  2 
month." 

The  ride  in  the  train  was  enjoyed  by  all,  and  as  they 


88  Nell's  Letter. 

passed  eastward,  mile  after  mile,  Diamond  pointed  out 
many  objects  of  interest. 

At  last  they  reached  the  station  to  which  their  wheels 
had  been  sent,  and  here  they  left  the  train. 

"There  is  an  easy  road  along  here,"  said  Jack.  "I 
know  you  will  all  delight  in  a  spin." 

Bruce  groaned. 

"More  work — and  just  as  I  was  getting  so  comfort- 
ably settled  in  that  car  seat,  too." 

"Oh,  brace  up,  Bruce!"  cried  Frank,  cheerfully. 
"You've  done  well  ever  since  we  left  New  York.  Don't 
collapse  on  the  last  lap." 

"All  right ;  I'll  brace  up,"  sighed  the  big  fellow,  and 
followed  the  others. 

Toots  had  seen  to  it  that  the  bicycles  were  polished 
to  the  last  degree,  so  that  they  shone  like  silver  in  the 
bright  sunshine. 

For  over  an  hour  the  crowd  spun  along  over  the 
road. 

Then  unlucky  Hans  ran  into  a  hollow,  throwing  him- 
self over  the  handle  bars  and  twisting  one  of  the  pedals 
of  his  machine. 

Luckily,  there  was  a  repair  shop  not  very  far  off,  and 
to  this  they  took  their  way,  where  a  machinist  went  to 
work  on  the  wheel  without  delay. 

While  the  others  were  waiting  for  Hans  bicycle  to 
be  mended,  Diamond  called  Frank  to  one  side. 

"Come  down  to  the  river  with  me,"  he  said.  "I 
want  to  show  you  a  particularly  fine  view." 


Nell's  Letter.  89 

"How  far?"  asked  Frank. 
"Only  about  half  a  mile." 
"All  right,  I'll  go  with  you." 
And  the  two  set  off,  never  dreaming  of  tHe  tremen- 
dous surprise  in  store  for  them. 


CHAPTER  XL 

A   TRAITOR   AND  A   SPY. 

"Steady!  steady!"  roared  a  commanding  voice. 
"Stroke,  keep  at  it,  and  pick  it  up  quicker  on  the  be- 
ginning." 

The  eight  oarsmen  in  the  boat  were  doing  their  level 
best,  their  oars  flashing  in  the  sunlight  as  they  came 
dripping  from  the  water  to  disappear  again,  sending  the 
light  craft  flying  along. 

On  the  shore,  which  at  this  point  was  a  high  bank, 
the  coach  watched  them  as  they  skimmed  past,  and 
shouted  his  commands. 

"Drive  your  legs  at  it,  four!  What  are  you  in  the 
boat  for?  Carry  it  through  all  the  way.  Up,  now! 
Long  swing!  Great  Scott!  don't  think  you've  got  to 
break  your  neck  to  recover  because  you  pull  hard  on  the 
stroke." 

He  was  a  young  fellow  with  a  beardless  face  that 
plainly  indicated  his  firm  conviction  that  what  he  did 
not  know  was  not  worth  finding  out.  His  lips  were 
red  and  full,  and  his  entire  bearing  plainly  betokened 
unlimited  setf-conceit. 

He  was  dressed  in  a  flannel  outing  suit,  and  wore  a 
straw  hat,  about  which  was  a  bright  red  ribbon.  His 
necktie,  also,  was  bright  red.  On  his  feet  were  well- 
polished  russet  shoes.  There  was  a  diamond  in  his 
tie,  and  diamonds  set  in  the  rings  on  his  fingers. 


A  Traitor  and  a  Spy.  91 

It  seemed  at  a  glance  that  this  lad  had  "money  to 
burn."  His  swell  appearance  was  enough  to  make  al- 
most any  ordinary  boy  regard  him  with  envy  and  ad- 
miration. And  his  manner  would  impress  an  ordinary 
boy  with  his  astonishing  knowledge  and  importance  in 
the  world. 

"Oh,  say!"  he  shouted;  "what  do  you  chaps  think 
you  are  doing?  Feel  for  the  water.  Be  delicate  and 
gentle  when  you  are  coming  forward.  This  is  not  a 
question  of  bull  strength.  If  it  was,  a  crew  of  long- 
shoremen and  freight  handlers  could  row  all  around 
you." 

Not  a  word  from  the  sturdy,  sun-browned  young  fel- 
lows in  the  boat.  They  were  there  to  obey,  and  to 
stand  such  abuse  as  this  insolent,  overbearing  coach  saw 
fit  to  heap  upon  them. 

"Great  Scott!"  cried  the  coach,  once  more.  "You 
chaps  make  me  sick!  Will  you  never  get  onto  your- 
selves? There  you  go,  five!  Can't  you  see  what 
you're  doing?  You're  pulling  out,  and  you  are  wast- 
ing the  end  of  your  stroke.  You  are  finishing  ahead 
of  four  every  time.  It  would  take  a  club  to  beat  any- 
thing into  your  head!  Vast,  turn  around,  coxswain." 

Then  this  important  person  fell  back  a  step,  and 
spoke  to  another  lad,  who  was  concealed  by  some 
bushes,  from  which  he  was  peering  at  the  crew  in  the 
boat. 

"A  lot  of  lubbers,"  said  the  coach,  contemptuously. 
"You  fellows  needn't  worry  about  them.  You'll  show 
them  clear  water  from  the  start." 


92  A  Traitor  and  a  Spy. 

These  words  were  uttered  in  a  low  tone,  so  they  could 
not  be  heard  by  the  rowers. 

The  boy  hidden  in  the  bushes  laughed  softly. 

"You  are  playing  them  for  suckers,  all  right,  Har- 
low,"  he  said ;  "but  it  does  seem  to  me  that  they  are  im- 
proving under  your  coaching.  Look  out  and  not  make 
them  so  good  that  they  will  stand  a  show  of  winning 
over  A.  A.  C." 

"If  they  didn't  improve,  they  wouldn't  keep  me  as 
coach,"  returned  the  other;  "but  I'll  knock  the  stuffing 
out  of  them  at  the  last  moment  by  advising  the  removal 
of  a  good  man  and  the  substitution  of  a  poor  one.  I 
want  them  to  have  enough  confidence  in  me  by  that  time 
so  they  will  do  exactly  as  I  say." 

Two  other  lads,  in  bicycle  suits,  unseen  by  the  treach- 
erous coach  and  the  spy  in  the  bushes,  having  left  their 
wheels  near  the  highway  that  ran  some  distance  from 
the  river,  had  come  down  and  stopped  near  enough  to 
hear  all  this  conversation. 

They  were  Diamond  and  Frank. 

Diamond  had  brought  Merriwell  to  that  point  in 
order  to  show  him  the  pretty  view  of  the  Potomac 
River,  and  not  till  they  had  advanced  more  than  two- 
thirds  the  distance  from  the  road  did  they  hear  the 
shouted  cries  of  the  coach,  and  see  him  standing  on  the 
bluff. 

The  curiosity  of  the  boys  was  aroused,  and  they 
came  forward  quietly  to  see  what  was  taking  place. 

The  coach,  and  the  spy  in  the  bushes,  were  so  ab- 
sorbed in  the  movements  of  the  crew  that  neither  saw 
Merriwell  and  Diamond,  and  so,  without  thinking  of 


A  Traitor  and  a  Spy.  93 

playing  eavesdroppers,  the  Yale  lads  heard  something 
that  was  not  intended  for  their  ears. 

Jack  clutched  Frank's  arm. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?'*  he  hissed,  his  dark 
face  growing  still  darker. 

"Think,"  said  Frank,  scornfully.  "I  think  that 
coach  should  be  ducked  in  the  river !" 

"And  I  think  the  spy  should  be  ducked  with  him!" 
came  fiercely  from  the  lips  of  the  young  Virginian. 

"Look  here,  Jack!"  said  Frank,  "there  is  something 
familiar  about  that  fellow  in  flannels.  I've  seen  him 
before." 

"His  voice  sounded  familiar  to  me,"  nodded  Dia- 
mond. 

At  this  moment,  as  if  he  had  heard  their  voices,  the 
coach  looked  in  their  direction,  and  saw  them.  He 
gave  a  violent  start,  seemed  a  bit  confused,  and  then 
cried : 

"What  are  you  doing  there — playing  the  spy  ?  Don't 
you  know  you  have  no  right  there  ?" 

In  another  instant  Frank  was  bounding  toward  the 
spot,  followed  by  Jack. 

"No,  we  are  not  spying,"  said  Merriwell,  "but  we 
know  a  chap  that  is !  Here  he  is !" 

Then  he  pounced  on  the  startled  youth  in  the  bushes 
and  dragged  him  forth,  for  all  of  his  resistance. 

"Let  me  go,  hang  you !"  came  from  the  fellow  Frank 
had  exposed.  "If  you  don't  let  me  go,  you  will  be 
sorry!" 

"I'll  let  you  go  when  I  have  shown  you  to  the  gen- 


94  A  Traitor  and  a  Spy. 

tlemen  in  that  boat  down  there,"  declared  Frank.  "I 
have  dealt  with  sneaks  like  you  before." 

The  spy  struggled  desperately,  furious  at  the  thought 
of  exposure  and  disgrace. 

"You  shall  suffer  for  this!"  he  grated. 

Then  the  coach  advanced  quickly  on  Merriwell, 
speaking  in  a  low  tone,  although  his  voice  quivered 
with  passion : 

"Let  him  go — let  him  go !     If  you  don't " 

"What  then?"  said  Jack  Diamond,  placing  himself 
in  the  path  of  the  treacherous  coach.  "What  do  you 
think  you  will  do  about  it,  my  fine  fellow  ?" 

"I  will Great  Scott !     It  is  Jack  Diamond !" 

The  coach  staggered  from  the  shock  of  the  discov- 
ery, for  up  to  that  moment  he  had  been  too  excited 
to  recognize  either  of  the  boys.  Now  he  looked  at  the 
other,  adding,  hoarsely: 

"And  that's  Frank  Merriwell !    Satan  take  the  luck !" 

This  attracted  Frank's  attention,  so  he  turned  and 

took  a  square  look  at  the  coach,  in  whose  appearance  he 

had  fancied  there  was  something  familiar  from  the 

very  first. 

"Great  Jove!"  he  cried.     "Rolf  Harlow!" 
The  name  and  the  sight  of  its  owner  awakened  a  host 
of  unpleasant  memories  in  Frank's  heart. 

Harlow,  expelled  from  Harvard  for  gambling  and 
cheating  at  cards,  had  come  to  New  Haven  in  search  of 
"suckers"  among  the  Yale  students.  He  had  been  in- 
troduced by  a  student  by  the  name  of  Harris,  and 
Frank,  whose  one  great  failing  was  his  strong  inclina- 


A  Traitor  and  a  Spy.  95 

tion  to  play  cards  for  a  stake,  had  been  drawn  into  the 
game  in  his  endeavor  to  pull  Rattleton  out  of  it. 

In  the  end  it  had  proved  fortunate  that  Frank  was 
led  into  the  game,  for  he  had  detected  Harlow  in  his 
crooked  dealing  and  exposed  him,  compelling  him  tc 
give  up  certain  of  Diamond's  promises  to  pay,  and  thus 
saving  Jack  from  disgrace. 

Harlow  was  revengeful,  and  he  had  tried  to  "get 
square"  with  Frank,  but  each  attempt  had  rebounded 
disastrously  upon  him.  When  last  seen,  Rolf  was  fol- 
lowing a  circus  through  the  State  of  Missouri,  and 
working  a  shell  game  on  the  country  people. 

Now  he  was  in  Virginia,  coaching  a  crew  of  oars- 
men who  were  practicing  for  a  race ! 

And,  as  usual,  he  was  playing  a  crooked  game. 

The  crew  in  the  boat  saw  the  struggle  on  the  shore, 
and  wondered  what  it  meant.  There  was  a  landing 
near,  and  toward  it  the  coxswain  directed  the  boat, 
saying : 

"Pull,  fellows!  We  must  go  up  there  and  investi- 
gate this  affair.  We  have  been  watched." 

Harlow  turned  very  pale  when  he  recognized  Frank, 
for  he  had  learned  to  fear  our  hero.  He  had  not 
dreamed  they  would  meet  in  Virginia. 

As  soon  as  Diamond  could  recover  from  the  astonish- 
ment of  the  discovery,  he  scornfully  cried : 

"Harlow  it  is,  and  he  is  up  to  his  old  tricks !" 

The  spy,  whom  Frank  had  captured,  made  a  savage 
attempt  to  thrust  Merriwell  from  the  edge  of  the  bluff 
into  the  river,  seeing  the  crew  was  coming,  and  he 


96  A  Traitor  and  a  Spy. 

soon  would  be  face  to  face  with  a  lot  of  angry  lads 
who  might  not  have  any  mercy  on  him. 

"Easy,  my  fine  chap!"  laughed  the  Yale  athlete. 
"What's  the  use !  You  can't  do  it,  you  know !" 

"Help,  Harlow !"  appealed  the  spy.  "The  Blue 
Cove  fellows  are  coming,  and  they'll  be  awfully  mad !" 

Harlow  hesitated,  and  then  a  desperate  light  came 
into  his  eyes.  Young  ruffian  that  he  was,  he  always 
went  armed,  and  now  he  decided  to  make  an  attempt 
to  bluff  Frank. 

With  a  quick  movement,  Rolf  produced  a  revolver, 
which  he  pointed  straight  at  Merriwell,  crying : 

"Let  him  go — let  him  go,  or  I'll  shoot!" 

The  expression  on  his  face  seemed  to  indicate  that  he 
really  meant  it,  and  Diamond  shivered  a  bit,  knowing 
Harlow  as  he  did,  and  thinking  him  desperate  and  reck- 
less enough  to  do  almost  anything  in  a  burst  of  passion. 

Jack  crouched  to  move  aside,  so  he  could  spring  at 
Rolf,  but  Harlow  saw  the  movement,  and  hissed : 

"Stand  still  there,  or  I'll  shoot  you  first!" 

"You  don't  dare "  began  Jack. 

"Don't  I  ?"  interrupted  the  desperate  lad  with  the  re- 
volver. "You'll  find  I  do!  I've  been  jumped  on  by 
you  fellows  till  I  can't  stand  any  more  of  it !  This  is  a 
case  of  self-defense,  and  I  can  prove  it  so.  You  at- 
tacked us !  I  have  a  right  to  defend  my  life !" 

It  was  plain  that  Harlow  was  trying  to  convince  him- 
self that  he  was  in  the  right,  and,  could  he  do  so,  hating 
Frank  Merriwell  as  he  did,  it  was  certain  that  he  might 
shoot  on  the  slightest  provocation. 


A  Traitor  and  a  Spy.  97 

Jack  stood  still;  for  the  moment  he  knew  not  what 
to  do. 

"Come  here,  Diamond/'  called  Frank,  sharply. 
"Come  quick!  Don't  mind  that  fellow!  If  he  does 
any  shooting,  I  won't  leave  much  of  a  job  for  the  lynch- 
ers !  I  believe  they  string  people  up  down  in  this  State 
in  a  hurry !" 

"Stand  where  you  are,  Diamond !"  shouted  Harlow. 

But  Jack  obeyed  Frank,  and  Harlow  did  not  shoot. 

"Now,  hold  this  spy,  and  I  will  deal  with  that  crook,'* 
said  Frank,  turning  the  lad  he  had  captured  over  to 
Jack. 

As  soon  as  he  had  done  this,  Merriwell  started  to 
walk  straight  toward  Harlow,  who  still  had  him  cov- 
ered with  the  revolver. 

"Stop!"  shouted  Rolf,  fiercely;  "stop!  or  by  the  Lord 
Harry,  I  will  shoot!" 

"Oh,  no,  you  won't,"  answered  Merriwell,  with  the 
utmost  confidence,  as  he  calmly  continued  to  advance, 
apparently  as  unconcerned  as  if  it  were  a  toy  pistol  in 
the  hand  of  his  enemy. 

Harlow  hesitated,  and  gasped.  Reckless  though  he 
was,  intensely  though  he  hated  Frank,  he  had  not  the 
nerve  to  shoot  the  cool  lad  down. 

Through  Harlow's  head  flashed  a  thought.  What 
if  he  should  pull  the  trigger,  and  the  revolver  failed  to 
go  off?  He  knew  Merriwell  would  be  on  him  like  a 
furious  tiger.  He  knew  Merriwell  would  have  no 
mercy. 

He  dared  not  try  to  shoot.     The  eyes  of  the  Yale 


98  A  Traitor  and  a  Spy. 

athlete  were  fastened  steadily  upon  him,  and  there  was 
something  in  their  depths  that  made  him  falter. 

One,  two,  three  seconds,  and  then  Frank's  hand 
grasped  the  revolver  and  firmly  turned  it  aside.  Har- 
low  seemed  incapable  of  resistance,  and,  to  his  own  as- 
tonishment, as  well  as  to  the  unutterable  amazement  of 
the  witnesses  of  the  act,  Frank  took  the  revolver  away 
without  being  resisted. 

Diamond  was  paralyzed  by  the  nerve  of  his  friend. 
Although  he  had  known  Frank  long,  and  thought  he 
knew  him  fully,  this  act  was  a  revelation  to  him. 

Then  it  was,  while  Diamond  was  staring  and  mutter- 
ing, that  the  spy  suddenly  struck  him  a  terrific  blow  be- 
hind the  ear,  sending  Jack  to  grass. 

For  an  instant  Diamond  was  stunned,  and  when  he 
recovered,  the  spy  was  far  away,  running  as  if  his  very 
life  depended  on  it. 

Jack  scrambled  up  as  quickly  as  he  could,  and  would 
have  followed,  but  Frank  called : 

"Let  him  go !     It's  useless  to  chase  him." 

"Well,  that  was  a  fool  trick  of  mine!"  growled  the 
Virginian,  disgusted  with  himself.  "I  ought  to  have  a 
leather  medal !" 

The  boat's  crew  had  made  a  landing,  and  now  they 
came  toward  the  spot  on  a  run.  Handsome,  manly 
young  chaps,  from  sixteen  to  nineteen,  they  were. 

"Genuine  Virginians,  they  are!"  muttered  Jack,  ad- 
miringly. "They  don't  grow  anything  better  any- 
where !" 

Harlow  seemed  cowed  by  what  had  taken  place. 

Since  being  disarmed  without  a  struggle,  all  the  spirit 


A  Traitor  and  a  Spy.  99 

seemed  to  have  left  him.  He  stood  still,  looking  sullen 
and  uncertain,  as  if  not  quite  sure  what  to  do. 

Up  came  the  oarsmen,  a  solid-looking,  brown-eyed 
lad  in  the  lead. 

"What's  all  this  about,  anyway?"  he  sharply  asked, 
addressing  Rolf.  "Who  are  these  chaps,  and  what  are 
they  doing?" 

An  idea  came  to  Harlow ;  he  grasped  at  it. 

"They  are  spies — enemies!"  he  quickly  declared. 
"They  were  watching  here  in  the  bushes.  They  must 
be  connected  with  the  Alexandria  fellows." 

Then  the  rowers,  sunburned  and  brawny  appearing, 
gathered  about  Frank  and  Jack,  regarding  them  with 
anything  but  pleasant  looks. 

"Give  it  to  'em !"  shouted  Harlow,  hoping  to  set  the 
boys  on  Frank  and  Jack  before  any  explanation  could 
be  made.  "See  here — don't  you  see  one  of  them 
threatening  me  with  a  revolver?  They  are  despera- 
does!" 

"In  that  case,  gentlemen,  perhaps  it  would  be  well 
enough  not  to  push  us  too  hard,"  coolly  observed 
Frank,  as  he  moved  the  muzzle  of  the  revolver  about  in 
a  careless  manner.  "Just  give  us  time  to  say  something 
for  ourselves." 

"Don't  listen !"  cried  Rolf,  wildly.  "They  will  try 
to  lie  out  of  it,  but  I  saw  them  spying !" 

"Who  was  the  chap  that  ran  away  ?"  asked  the  leader 
of  the  oarsmen,  the  stroke,  whose  name  was  Kent 
Spencer. 

"He  was  one  of  them,"  asserted  Harlow. 


ioo  A  Traitor  and  a  Spy. 

"In  that  case,  it  is  odd  we  didn't  run  away  with  him," 
smiled  Frank.  "We  might  have  done  so,  you  know." 

"Well,  why  didn't  you?"  asked  Spencer. 

"Because  there  was  no  reason  why  we  should  run, 
and  several  reasohs  why  we  should  stay.  We  can  tell 
you  a  few  things  that  may  surprise  you." 

"Don't  listen  to  their  lies !"  shouted  Harlow.  "Pitch 
them  into  the  river!  It's  what  they  deserve!" 

For  a  moment  it  seemed  that  the  young  oarsmen 
would  obey  him.  They  seemed  about  to  precipitate 
themselves  on  the  strangers.  Again  Frank's  coolness 
caused  a  delay. 

"If  you  want  to  souse  us  in  the  river  after  we  have 
made  our  explanation,  you  can  do  so,"  he  smiled ;  "but 
isn't  it  well  enough  to  hear  what  we  have  to  say  first  ?" 

"I  don't  see  that  it  can  do  any  harm,"  admitted  Spen- 
cer. "Give  the  fellows  a  show,  boys,  but  don't  let  'em 
get  away." 

This  did  not  suit  Rolf  Harlow  at  all,  but  he  saw  it 
was  useless  to  try  to  urge  the  oarsmen  on.  They  were 
inclined  to  obey  Spencer. 

"All  right!"  he  grated;  "listen  to  their  lies,  if  you 
like.  You'll  be  disgusted  when  you  hear  what  they 
have  to  say." 

Spencer  eyed  Harlow  closely,  wondering  why  he 
should  be  so  eager  to  keep  the  strangers  from  speaking. 
He  seemed  to  fear  something  that  he  knew  would  be 
said. 

"As  for  lies,"  said  Frank,  "if  I  am  not  mistaken,  I 
fancy  you  will  hear  a  few  from  this  fine  gentleman  who 


A  Traitor  and  a  Spy.  101 

has  been  coaching  you,  but  who  is  a  traitor  to  you  at 
the  same  time." 

"A  traitor !"  cried  Spencer.  "Be  careful !  Mr.  Har- 
low  is  a  gentleman  and  a  student  of  Yale  College." 

"A  what?"  shouted  Diamond. 

"A  what?"  echoed  Merriwell.  "Why,  the  nearest 
this  fellow  ever  came  to  the  inside  of  Yale  College  was 
Jackson's  poker  joint  in  New  Haven.  If  he  has  repre- 
sented himself  as  a  student  of  Yale,  it  shows  he  began 
by  lying  to  you  right  off  the  reel.  This  fellow  was  ex- 
pelled from  Harvard,  and  was  drummed  out  of  New 
Haven  for  cheating  at  cards!  That's  the  kind  of  a 
bird  he  is!" 


CHAPTER  XII. 

HARLOW'S   DISCOMFITURE. 

Something  like  a  grating  imprecation  escaped  Har- 
low's  lips,  and  it  seemed  that  he  would  leap  for  Frank's 
throat. 

But  the  revolver  was  still  in  Merriwell's  hand,  and, 
somehow,  its  muzzle  wandered  around,  and  stopped 
when  it  covered  Rolf. 

The  accused  lad  literally  gnashed  his  teeth. 

The  others  were  aghast  for  a  moment,  and  then  Kent 
Spencer  seriously  said : 

"Look  here,  sir,  you  will  have  to  prove  that  charge. 
Otherwise,  you  will  find  you  have  made  a  big  mistake 
in  accusing  a  gentleman  of  being  a  blackguard." 

"I  can  prove  it  without  a  struggle,"  assured  Frank. 

"How?" 

"In  several  ways.  To  begin  with,  I  am  a  student  at 
Yale  myself.  It  was  in  New  Haven  I  first  met  this 
crook.  I  exposed  him  when  he  was  bleeding  some  of 
my  friends  by  playing  poker  with  them  and  using 
marked  cards." 

"A  lie !"  Harlow  almost  screamed ;  "a  vile  lie !" 

"It  is  the  truth,"  asserted  Jack  Diamond.  "I  was  in 
that  game.  Harlow  beat  me,  and  he  would  have 
beaten  me  worse  but  for  Mr.  Merriwell." 

"Mr.  Who?"  Spencer  shouted. 

"Merriwell." 


Harlow's  Discomfiture.  103 

"Who  is  Mr.  Merriwell?" 

"That  is  Mr.  Merriwell  right  there,"  said  Jack,  nod- 
ding toward  Frank. 

"Frank  Merriwell — Frank  Merriwell,  the  ball  player 
and  all-around  athlete?"  questioned  Spencer,  excitedly. 

"That's  who  he  is,"  assured  the  Virginian. 

"Then  Mr.  Harlow  should  be  very  well  acquainted 
with  him/'  said  the  stroke  of  the  crew,  "for  he  has  said 
that  Frank  Merriwell  is  his  particular  friend." 

"Yes,"  spoke  up  another,  "he  referred  us  to  Frank 
Merriwell  when  he  applied  for  the  position  to  coach 
our  crew." 

"My  eyes!  what  a  crust!"  shouted  Diamond.  "I 
never  heard  of  such  cheek !  He  referred  you  to  Merry 
because  he  thought  you  could  not  reach  him  by  letter, 
as  he  knew  Merry  was  somewhere  out  West  on  a  bi- 
cycle tour." 

"All  of  us  had  heard  of  Mr.  Merriwell,"  said  Spen- 
cer. "We  saw  his  name  in  the  papers  often.  A  sport- 
ing magazine  spoke  of  him  as  the  destined  leader  in 
baseball  and  football  at  Yale.  Besides  that,  I  know  a 
person  who  is  personally  acquainted  with  him.  Natur- 
ally, when  Mr.  Harlow  declared  that  Frank  Merriwell 
was  a  particular  friend  of  his  we  were  inclined  to  re- 
gard him  with  favor,  and  I  am  greatly  astonished  to 
discover  that  he  has  been  deceiving  us." 

Harlow  looked  disgusted. 

"I  presume  you  are  ready  to  take  the  word  of  these 
strangers  against  me!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  didn't  think 
that  of  you,  but " 


104  Harlow's  Discomfiture. 

"If  this  is  Frank  Merriwell,  why  shouldn't  we  take 
his  word?" 

"How  do  you  know  he  is  Frank  Merriwell?"  de- 
manded Rolf. 

"I  can  prove  that  with  ease,"  smiled  Frank,  thrusting 
his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  pulling  forth  some  letters. 
"Here  is  some  of  my  correspondence,  here  is  my  card, 
and  here  is  my  name  and  address  on  this  key  check.  If 
you  want  further  proof,  gentlemen,  I  can  show  you 
my  name  marked  upon  my  clothes." 

"That  is  quite  enough,"  assured  Spencer.  "We  are 
satisfied  that  you  are  what  you  represent  yourself  to 
be.  And  now  will  you  be  good  enough  to  tell  us  the 
meaning  of  this  struggle  here  on  the  bank  ?" 

"With  pleasure,"  bowed  Frank.  "My  friend  here, 
Jack  Diamond,  a  Virginian  born  and  bred,  asked  me  to 
leave  the  road  over  yonder  and  come  here,  where  he 
could  show  me  a  pretty  view  of  the  Potomac.  We 
locked  our  bicycles  to  a  tree,  where  it  was  not  likely 
they  would  be  seen,  and  came  this  way.  As  we  ap- 
proached, we  saw  this  chap  in  flannels  standing  on  the 
bank  and  shouting  his  orders  to  your  crew.  Curiosity 
brought  us  nearer,  and  then  we  heard  him  talking  with 
another  chap  who  was  hidden  in  the  bushes  where  he 
could  watch  your  work.  From  what  we  over- 
heard  " 

It  was  getting  too  hot  for  Harlow,  and  he  inter- 
rupted Frank. 

"It  is  plain  to  me,"  he  cried,  "that  you  are  ready  to 
take  the  word  of  a  stranger  instead  of  mine,  and  that  is 


Harlow's  Discomfiture.  105 

too  much  for  me  to  stand.  That  being  the  case,  I'll 
leave  you  with  your  new  friends." 

He  was  about  to  hurry  from  the  spot,  but  Frank 
checked  him. 

"Hold  on,  Harlow,"  he  said,  suavely.  "I  have  your 
revolver,  you  know." 

"Then  give  it  to  me !" 

"Come  take  it." 

Although  thus  invited,  Rolf  did  not  hasten  to  obey, 
for  the  muzzle  of  the  weapon  was  looking  straight  at 
him. 

"I  thought  you  would  wait  a  while/*  nodded  Frank. 
"You  shall  have  the  gun  directly." 

Then  he  continued  his  story : 

"From  what  we  overheard,  we  learned  that  your 
coach  and  the  spy  in  the  bushes  were  in  league  with 
each  other.  Evidently,  the  spy  belongs  to  a  rival  crew, 
and  he  was  watching  to  get  points  from  your  work." 

Exclamations  of  anger  broke  from  the  rowers,  and 
it  was  plain  they  were  greatly  incensed. 

Harlow  fidgeted  uneasily.  A  short  time  before,  he 
had  been  very  popular  among  these  fellows,  but  now 
they  regarded  him  with  distrust  and  positive  contempt. 

All  through  Frank  Merriwell !  How  he  hated  Mer- 
riwell ! 

"It  was  one  of  the  A.  A.  C.  fellows!"  cried  a  red- 
headed fellow,  whose  name  was  Fred  Dobbs.  "I 
thought  I  recognized  him  from  the  river." 

It  was  plain  that  Spencer  was  loath  to  believe  such 
a  thing  about  any  person. 


106  Harlow's  Discomfiture. 

"Why  should  Mr.  Harlow  betray  us?"  he  asked,  in 
an  undecided  way. 

"That's  it!"  cried  Rolf,  catching  at  this  as  a  drown- 
ing person  might  catch  at  a  floating  chip.  "Why 
should  I  do  such  a  thing?" 

"He'll  do  anything  for  money!"  scornfully  exclaimed 
Jack  Diamond. 

"And  the  Alexandria  fellows  have  money  to  burn," 
came  from  Fred  Dobbs.  "They  are  furious  because  we 
won  the  championship  of  the  Potomac  last  year,  and 
they  mean  to  win  it  back  this  year  by  fair  means  or 
foul.  I  can  understand  why  they  should  buy  up  our 
coach." 

"But  Harlow  has  seemed  to  work  for  our  interest 
thus  far,"  said  another.  "Surely  we  have  improved 
under  his  coaching." 

"If  you  hadn't  you  would  not  have  confidence  in  him 
as  a  coach,  would  you  ?"  asked  Jack. 

"No,  of  course  not." 

"Well,  that's  just  where  he  has  been  playing  his  card 
shrewdly.  He  wanted  you  to  have  enough  confidence 
so  you  would  make  up  your  crew  at  the  last  minute  just 
as  he  directed.  That  would  settle  it." 

Harlow  saw  the  case  had  gone  against  him. 

"Settle  it  to  suit  yourselves !"  he  cried.  "This  is  the 
first  time  ever  I  was  treated  like  this!  I  fancied  they 
raised  gentlemen  down  here  in  Virginia!" 

"And  so  they  do!"  came  sternly  from  Kent  Spencer; 
"but  we  have  found  they  are  not  always  all  gentlemen 
who  come  down  here  from  the  North.  Mr.  Harlow, 
you  shall  be  given  a  fair  show.  A  meeting  of  the  Blue 


Harlow's  Discomfiture.  107 

Cove  Academy  Athletic  Club  shall  be  called,  and  the 
charges  against  you  shall  be  impartially  investigated. 
If  they  are  proven,  we  shall  publicly  proclaim  you  a 
scoundrel.  But  you  will  be  given  a  good  opportunity 
to  disprove  them.  You  can  ask  for  nothing  more." 

Rolf  braced  up. 

"I  do  not  ask  for  anything  more,"  he  declared.  '1 
will  be  on  hand  at  the  meeting,  and  I  will  prove  that 
I  have  been  defamed  and  lied  about  by  these  fellows. 
I  did  think  Frank  Merriwell  was  my  friend;  but  he  is 
never  a  friend  to  a  rival  in  athletics  and  sports,  so  he 
has  turned  against  me,  and  is  trying  to  down  me." 

This  came  near  being  too  much  for  Jack  Diamond  to 
stand.  Knowing  Frank  as  he  did,  and  thinking  how 
generous  Merriwell  always  was  in  dealing  with  a  rival, 
Jack  felt  like  slapping  Rolf  across  the  mouth. 

Frank  seemed  to  divine  the  feelings  and  thoughts  of 
his  comrade,  for  he  caught  Jack's  arm,  saying,  swiftly 
but  quietly: 

"Never  mind  that,  my  boy.  If  it's  a  lie,  these  fel- 
lows will  find  it  out  in  time,  and  it  will  harm  nobody 
but  the  one  who  told  it." 

Jack  growled  a  bit,  but  he  always  obeyed  Frank,  so 
Rolf  escaped. 

"Here,  Mr.  Harlow,"  said  Merriwell,  reversing  the 
revolver  and  handing  it  to  its  owner,  "here  is  the  gun 
you  pulled  on  me.  I  have  no  further  use  for  it." 

Sourly,  the  exposed  rascal  accepted  the  weapon,  and 
put  it  in  his  pocket.  Then  he  said  : 

"I  am  going  now,  and  I  leave  you  fellows  to  listen 
to  the  lies  these  chaps  may  tell  about  me.  I  don't  care! 


io8  Harlow's  Discomfiture. 

They  don't  cut  any  ice.  I'll  be  on  hand  at  the  investi- 
gation, and  I'll  show  you  what  monumental  liars  they 
both  are." 

Then  he  walked  away,  not  a  hand  being  lifted  to  stop 
him. 

"Mr.  Merriwell,"  said  Kent  Spencer,  when  Rolf  had 
vanished,  "I  am  pleased  to  meet  you,  but  sorry  that  the 
meeting  should  be  under  such  unpleasant  circum- 
stances." 

"Don't  mention  it,"  smiled  Frank.  "I  am  glad  to  be 
of  service  to  you  in  helping  expose  a  rascal  like 
Harlow." 

"If  the  charges  against  Harlow  stand,  we'll  need  a 
new  coach,"  quickly  put  in  Fred  Dobbs. 

"That's  right,"  nodded  Spencer;  "and  I  don't  know 
where  we  will  get  one,  unless  we  can  induce  Mr.  Merri- 
well to  serve  us." 

"He'll  make  a  dandy  for  you!"  cried  Diamond. 
"The  first  year  he  was  in  Yale  he  coached  the  freshmen 
so  that  we  beat  the  sophomores  without  a  struggle,  and 
we  had  the  poorer  boat,  too.  Oh,  Frank  can  put  you  in 
shape  all  right." 

"We  may  not  need  a  coach,"  said  a  slender  chap  by 
the  name  of  Bob  Dean.  "If  Alexandria  has  resorted 
to  such  dirty  tricks  as  putting  spies  on  us  and  bribing 
our  coach,  I  am  for  refusing  to  row  with  them." 

"And  I!" 

"Same  here!" 

"I'm  another!" 

The  boys  of  Blue  Cove  Academy  were  aroused. 


Harlow's  Discomfiture.  109 

"Easy,  fellows,"  advised  Spencer.  "We  must  row 
with  Alexandria,  If  not,  with  whom  can  we  row  ?" 

"Bristol  Academy,"  suggested  one, 

Kent  shook  his  head. 

"It  won't  do,"  he  declared.  "Bristol  is  not  in  our 
class.  And  everybody  would  say  we  were  afraid  to 
meet  Alexandria.  If  there  was  another  crew " 

Diamond  struck  Frank  a  slap  on  the  shoulder. 

"By  Jove,  Merry !"  he  cried ;  "we  can  turn  out  a  crew 
ourselves.  If  we  can  get  into  this  race,  why  not  do  so? 
Blue  Cove  Academy  against  the  Yale  Combine.  That 
should  be  a  better  race  than  the  other.  It  would  at- 
tract more  attention." 

The  Blue  Cove  boys  were  interested  immediately. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Bob  Dean.  "How 
could  you  row  against  us  ?  Where  is  your  crew  ?" 

"The  rest  of  them  are  stopping  at  a  bicycle  repair 
shop  near  Brooke,"  Jack  explained.  "Merry  and  I 
rode  out  by  ourselves  for  a  spin,  and  that  is  how  we 
happened  to  be  here.  Say,  fellows,  this  is  a  great  idea ! 
Let  us  into  this  race,  anyway.  We  are  on  a  regular 
athletic  tour,  and  have  taken  part  in  every  event  we 
could  get  into  since  leaving  San  Francisco.  We've  left 
a  trail  of  glory  all  the  way  from  California  to  Vir- 
ginia." 

The  Blue  Cove  boys  looked  at  each  other  doubtingly. 
Bob  Dean  was  the  only  one  who  seemed  to  snap  at  the 
scheme  with  eagerness. 

"Let's  do  it,  fellows !"  he  cried.  "Let's  leave  Alex- 
andria out  and  race  with  the  Yale  crowd !" 

"I  do  net  think  we  can  leave  Alexandria  out  now," 


no  Harlow's  Discomfiture. 

said  Spencer,  gravely.  "We  have  agreed  to  meet  them, 
and  the  time  is  set." 

"But  think  of  the  sneaking  trick  they  have  played  on 
us !  That  ought  to  be  enough  to  queer  them." 

"It  ought  to,  but  we  can't  be  hasty  in  this  matter. 
We'll  consider  it  at  the  special  meeting  that  will  be 
called  to  investigate  the  charges  against  Harlow.  Mr. 
Merriwell,  you  and  your  friend  must  be  present  at  that 
meeting." 

"If  necessary,  we'll  be  there." 

"And  if  we  were  to  decide  to  let  you  into  the  race, 
have  you  a  boat  ?" 

"If  you  decide  to  let  us  in,  we'll  soon  provide  our- 
selves with  a  boat,"  declared  Frank. 

"Anyway,  you  must  come  to  Blue  Cove  Academy- 
all  of  you.  The  boys  will  make  you  welcome.  Will 
you  come?" 

"Where  is  the  academy?" 

"Up  the  river  about  four  miles." 

"Yes,  we  will  come." 

"Good!"  shouted  the  oarsmen.  "We'll  give  you  a 
jolly  reception." 

Then  Kent  Spencer  drew  Frank  aside. 

"Mr.  Merriwell,"  he  said,  "my  knowledge  of  you  has 
not  been  obtained  entirely  from  the  papers." 

"Indeed  ?"  smiled  Frank,  lifting  his  eyebrows. 

"No;  I  have  heard  much  of  you  from  a  personal 
friend  and  admirer  who  is  stopping  at  the  Cove." 

"That  is  pleasant  news.  I  shall  be  pleased  to  meet 
him.  I  am  always  glad  to  meet  my  friends.  Is  it  a 
Yale  man?" 


Harlow's  Discomfiture.  in 

"No,"  said  Kent,  "it  is  not  a  Yale  man.  It  is  some 
one  you  have  not  seen  in  a  long  time.  There  is  a  little 
hotel  down  at  the  Cove,  and  you  must  bring  your  party 
there.  This  friend  of  yours  is  stopping  at  the  cottage 
of  a  retired  sea  captain  who  lives  at  the  Cove.  My  sis- 
ter is  also  stopping  at  the  same  place." 

In  vain  Frank  urged  Spencer  to  tell  the  name  of  the 
mysterious  person  of  whom  he  spoke.  He  declared 
that  it  was  some  one  Merriwell  would  be  delighted  to 
see,  and  that  was  all  Frank  could  get  out  of  him. 

"Well,"  laughed  Merry,  "you  have  aroused  my  curi- 
osity so  that  I  am  going  down  to  Blue  Cove  imme- 
diately. I  shall  send  Jack  back  to  Brooke  for  the  rest 
of  the  fellows,  but  I  shall  continue  on  to  Blue  Cove." 

This  pleased  Spencer. 

"Do  it !"  he  cried.     "You  won't  be  sorry." 

Then  Frank  went  back  and  told  Jack  of  his  decision. 

"I  will  go  on  to  Blue  Cove  and  make  arrangements 
for  our  party  at  the  hotel,"  he  said,  "while  you  are  to 
go  back  for  the  fellows." 

Jack  was  not  quite  pleased  with  the  idea  of  wheeling 
back  to  the  others  all  alone,  but  he  did  not  murmur 
much. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AGAINST     ODDS. 

rA  short  time  later,  the  Blue  Cove  boys  were  pulling 
up  the  river  in  their  boat,  while  Diamond  was  riding  in 
one  direction  and  Merriwell  in  another. 

Frank  arrived  at  the  Cove  ahead  of  the  crew.  He 
found  a  pretty  little  spot,  with  a  hotel  set  back  on  an 
elevation  from  the  water,  while  the  academy  was  sur- 
rounded by  well-kept  grounds  and  tall  trees. 

It  was  the  vacation  season  at  the  academy,  but  two 
of  the  professors  lived  in  the  building  the  year  around, 
and  by  the  rule  of  the  institution,  the  annual  boat  race 
on  the  Potomac  was  not  allowed  during  the  spring 
term.  For  some  years  it  had  been  a  midsummer  event, 
a  number  of  students  remaining  at  the  academy  and 
getting  into  trim  after  the  spring  term  was  over. 

As  the  Cove  was  something  of  a  summer  resort, 
where  there  were  often  many  pretty  girls,  this  was  a 
pleasure  instead  of  a  hardship,  and  the  rivalry  for  the 
crew  was  intense. 

Often  from  six  to  a  dozen  students  besides  the  crew 
remained  at  Blue  Cove  during  the  summer,  and  at  the 
time  of  the  race  every  student  who  could  get  there  was 
on  hand. 

There  were  nearly  a  dozen  cottages  at  the  Cove,  and 
Frank's  first  view  of  the  place  brought  a  cry  of  delight 
from  his  lips. 


Against  Odds.  1 1 3 

Amid  the  trees,  hammocks  were  swung,  and  in  them 
could  be  seen  several  girls  in  light  dresses,  idly  perusing 
paper-covered  novels  or  chatting  with  the  young  fellows 
who  lingered  near. 

There  were  two  large  tennis  courts,  and  upon  one  of 
these,  despite  the  warm  sun,  a  party  of  four,  two  fel- 
lows and  two  girls,  were  engaged  in  a  most  exciting 
game. 

Above  the  Blue  Cove  Academy  boathouse  flew  a 
beautiful  flag,  and  several  pleasure  boats  lay  beside  a 
float,  or  were  moored  at  a  distance  from  the  shore. 

"Great  stuff!"  exclaimed  Frank,  with  satisfaction. 
"And  to  think  we  might  have  missed  this  place  but  for 
the  little  adventure  down  the  river.  We  won't  do  a 
thing  here  but  have  sport !" 

Straight  to  the  hotel  he  rode,  attracting  some  atten- 
tion. Soon  he  had  disposed  of  his  wheel,  and  made  ar- 
rangements for  the  accommodation  of  his  party,  fortu- 
nately being  on  hand  in  time  to  take  some  rooms  left 
vacant  by  some  visitors  who  had  departed  that 
morning. 

Having  settled  this  matter,  Frank  went  out  to  look 
for  Kent  Spencer  and  the  crew.  He  found  they  were 
not  yet  in  sight,  and  he  was  devoured  by  curiosity  to 
learn  without  delay  what  friend  of  his  was  stopping  at 
the  Cove. 

Being  thus  impatient,  Frank  made  inquiries  about  a 
retired  sea  captain  who  lived  in  the  neighborhood. 

He  was  told  that  an  old  sea  captain  by  the  name  of 
Tobias  Barnaby  lived  about  half  a  mile  away.  Barn- 


114  Against  Odds. 

aby  was  said  to  be  queer,  having  considerable  money, 
but  being  rather  close-fisted  and  mean. 

Frank  was  shown  a  path  that  led  over  a  rise  and 
through  some  timber  to  Barnaby's  home,  and  he  im- 
mediately set  off  in  that  direction. 

Merry's  curiosity  seemed  to  increase  as  he  hurried 
along  the  path.  What  friend  of  his  could  be  stopping 
with  this  queer  old  sea  captain  ?  It  was  some  one  who 
had  spoken  well  of  him  to  Kent  Spencer. 

The  timber  through  which  the  path  passed  was  rather 
thick,  and  Frank  did  not  obtain  a  sight  of  the  old  sail- 
or's home  till  he  came  out  suddenly  and  saw  the  wood- 
colored  roof  of  the  old  house  showing  amid  the  trees 
in  a  little  hollow  at  his  feet. 

"Well,  that's  a  cozy  nest !"  he  muttered,  as  he  paused 
to  admire  the  picture;  "and  the  last  place  in  the  world 
where  I  should  expect  to  find  any  one  who  knows  me." 

At  that  moment  he  was  startled  by  a  sound  that  came 
from  the  midst  of  the  trees  near  the  back  of  the  house. 

"Go  away  and  let  me  alone !"  sounded  the  voice  of  a 
girl.  "If  you  don't—  Help!  he-e-e-lp!" 

The  cry  for  help  was  uttered  in  a  smothered,  fright- 
ened manner,  and  it  stirred  Frank  Merriwell's  blood 
from  his  crown  to  his  toes. 

"I  think  I  am  needed  down  there !"  he  muttered. 

With  that,  he  went  leaping  down  the  steep  path  at 
breakneck  speed. 

"Stop  your  screaming!"  roughly  commanded  a  voice. 
"I  won't  hurt  you,  you  little  fool !  But  I  am  going  to 
kiss  you,  and  you  can't  stop  me,  for  I  know  old  Barn- 
aby  is  away.  I  saw  him  row  off  in  his  boat." 


Against  Odds.  115 

"Help — help!  Kate!"  cried  the  appealing  voice  of 
the  girl  from  the  midst  of  the  trees  back  of  the  old 
house. 

These  voices  served  to  guide  Frank.  He  left  the 
path  and  rushed  toward  the  spot  from  whence  the 
frightened  appeal  came,  his  feet  making  very  little 
noise  on  the  grass. 

In  a  moment  he  came  upon  a  spectacle  that  fired  his 
heart  with  the  greatest  rage. 

A  girl  with  golden  hair  was  struggling  in  the  arms 
of  a  young  fellow,  who  was  doing  his  best  to  hold  her 
while  he  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  unwilling  lips. 

And  that  young  fellow  was  Rolf  Harlow ! 

Frank  recognized  his  enemy  at  a  glance,  and  the 
sight  of  the  fellow  added  to  the  consuming  fury  burn- 
ing in  his  breast. 

By  brute  strength,  Harlow  overcame  the  girl,  and,  as 
he  held  her  helpless  in  his  arms,  he  laughed  triumph- 
antly, crying: 

"What's  the  use  to  make  so  much  fuss!  I  won't 
hurt  you.  I  was  stuck  on  you  the  first  time  I  saw 
you,  my  little  peach,  and  I  made  a  bet  that  I'd  kiss 
you  within  two  days.  I  must  do  the  job  now,  or  lose 
my  bet." 

"Then  you  will  lose  your  bet !" 

Rolf  heard  the  words,  but  he  had  no  time  to  turn  and 
meet  Frank,  who  was  right  upon  him. 

In  a  moment,  Frank  had  torn  the  girl  from  Harlow's 
arms,  and  planted  a  hammer-like  blow  under  the  fel- 
low's ear. 

Merry's  knuckles  cracked  on  the  neck  of  the  youngf 


ii6  Against  Odds. 

ruffian,  and  Harlow  went  down  as  if  he  had  been  struck 
by  a  club. 

With  the  girl  on  his  arm,  his  fist  clinched,  Frank 
stood  over  Rolf,  ready  to  give  him  another  if  he  tried 
to  get  up. 

But  Harlow  lay  gasping  and  quivering  on  the 
ground,  knocked  out  for  the  moment. 

The  girl,  who  was  almost  swooning,  slipped  her  soft 
arm  about  Frank's  neck,  and  then,  to  his  astonishment, 
he  heard  her  whisper : 

"Frank!  Frank!  is  it  you — can  it  be?" 

Then  he  looked  at  her,  and,  to  his  unbounded  aston- 
ishment and  joy,  he  saw  resting  against  his  shoulder 
the  sweet,  flower-like  face  of  Elsie  Bellwood. 

Was  he  dreaming?  For  a  moment  it  seemed  that  he 
must  be.  He  doubted  the  evidence  of  his  eyes. 

Was  this  Elsie,  his  old-time  girl,  of  whom  he  had 
thought  so  often  and  so  tenderly — Elsie,  of  whom  he 
had  dreamed,  and  whom  he  longed  to  see — Elsie,  blue- 
eyed,  golden-haired,  trusting  and  true! 

How  his  heart  leaped  and  fluttered !  How  the  love- 
light  leaped  into  his  eyes !  How  his  stern  face  softened ! 

It  was  Elsie — dear  little  Elsie — the  old  sea  captain's 
daughter,  and,  if  possible,  she  was  sweeter,  prettier, 
more  attractive  than  when  last  he  had  seen  her. 

She  was  pale  when  he  first  looked  at  her,  but  as  she 
saw  the  joyous  light  of  recognition  in  his  eyes,  the 
warm  color  stole  into  her  cheeks,  and  she  gasped  with 
a  delight  that  was  almost  childish. 

"It  is !"  she  panted ;  "it  is  Frank— my  Frank !" 

He  drew  her  close  to  him,  forgetting  the  scoundrel 


Against  Odds.  117 

he  had  knocked  down.  Both  his  arms  were  about  her, 
and  for  the  moment  the  joy  of  his  heart  was  too  deep 
for  words. 

She  lay  in  his  strong  arms,  laughing,  almost  crying, 
half  hysterical,  wholly  happy.  From  the  terror  and 
despair  of  a  few  moments  before  to  relief  and  joy  of 
the  present  was  so  great  a  revulsion  of  emotions  that 
she  felt  herself  incapable  of  any  movement  or  act. 

It  was  the  same  noble  fellow  she  knew  so  well,  only 
it  seemed  that  he  was  handsomer  and  nobler  in  appear- 
ance than  ever  before.  He  was  older,  and  there  was 
more  than  a  hint  of  dawning  manhood  in  his  face. 

For  the  time,  wrapped  about  with  the  unbounded  de- 
light of  their  unexpected  meeting,  they  were  utterly 
oblivious  to  their  surroundings.  They  did  not  see  Rolf 
Harlow  struggle  to  a  sitting  posture,  rubbing  the  spot 
where  Frank's  fist  had  been  planted.  They  did  not  see 
him  glaring  at  Merriwell  with  deadly  hate,  while  he 
felt  to  make  sure  that  his  revolver  was  where  his  hand 
could  find  it  quickly. 

Harlow  arose  quietly  to  his  feet,  assuming  a  crouch- 
ing posture,  ready  to  leap  upon  Frank,  whose  back  was 
toward  him. 

At  that  instant,  a  handsome,  black-eyed  girl  came 
running  around  the  corner  of  the  house,  closely  fol- 
lowed by  another  lad,  the  latter  being  the  spy  Merriwell 
and  Diamond  had  detected  in  the  bushes  farther  down 
the  river. 

A  cry  from  the  lips  of  the  girl  warned  Frank,  and 
caused  him  to  whirl  quickly  about.  As  he  did  this, 
Harlow  leaped  and  struck  out  with  all  his  strength. 


n8  Against  Odds. 

Frank  was  able  to  dodge  slightly  and  avoid  the  full 
force  of  the  blow.  However,  he  did  not  escape  it  en- 
tirely, and  it  staggered  him.  He  released  his  hold  upon 
Elsie  immediately,  for  Harlow  was  closely  following  up 
the  attack,  and  Merriwell  saw  he  was  in  for  a  fight  with 
the  furious  young  scoundrel. 

That  would  have  not  alarmed  Frank,  but  Harlow 
called  to  the  other  lad : 

"Here,  Radford,  jump  in  here  and  help  me  thump 
the  stuffing  out  of  him !  He's  alone !  It's  the  chap  who 
caught  you  down  the  river,  and  he  just  hit  me  a  thump 
when  I  wasn't  looking.  Come  on!" 

"I'm  with  you!"  shouted  Radford.  "We'll  lick  him 
till  he  can't  stand !  This  is  our  chance  to  get  square !" 

He  hastened  to  join  Harlow  in  the  attack  upon 
Frank. 

Merriwell  laughed.  It  was  his  old,  dangerous  laugh, 
which  came  from  his  lips  when  he  was  most  aroused  in 
time  of  peril. 

"Come  on!"  he  invited,  promptly.  "Sail  right  in 
and  lick  me !  I'll  watch  and  see  how  you  do  it !  The 
way  I  feel  now,  it  would  take  four  or  five  more  such 
chaps  as  you  to  do  that  little  job!  There  is  one  for 
you,  Radford !" 

Harlow  had  struck  at  Frank.  Merry  dodged  under 
his  arm,  came  up  behind  him,  and  struck  Radford  a 
stinging  blow  before  Rolf  could  turn  about. 

Then  a  furious  struggle  began,  while  the  two  girls, 
clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  looked  on  in  terror,  fear- 
ing the  dauntless  fellow  who  was  battling  against  such 
odds  would  be  severely  punished. 


Against  Odds.  119 

"Who  is  he,  Elsie?"  gasped  the  other  girl.  "Isn't 
he  brave!  Isn't  he  smart!  Oh,  I  never  saw  a  fellow 
who  could  fight  like  that!  I  do  admire  a  fellow  who 
can  fight!" 

"It's  terrible!"  whispered  timid  little  Elsie,  her  hands 
clasped  in  distress.  "A  fight  always  terrifies  me!  But 
they  can't  whip  him!"  she  declared,  with  the  utmost 
confidence.  "I  know  they  can't!" 

"Who  is  he?  You  must  know  him,  and  you  have 
not  told  me  who  he  is." 

"That  is  Frank  Merriwell,  of  whom  I  have  told  you 
so  much,  Kate,"  said  Elsie,  proudly.  "He  is  the 
bravest  fellow  in  the  whole  world!" 

"Frank  Merriwell?"  cried  Kate  Spencer,  for  it  was 
Kent  Spencer's  sister.  "How  can  that  be?  How 
comes  he  here?" 

"I  don't  know  yet,  but  he  came  just  in  time  to  save 
me  from  that  Rolf  Harlow,  whom  I  fear  and  detest. 
He  knocked  Harlow  down." 

"And  Berlin  Radford  was  holding  me  so  I  could  not 
come  to  your  assistance  when  you  were  crying  for  help. 
They  knew  Aunt  Hannah  had  gone  to  the  store,  and 
they  saw  Uncle  Tobias  row  away  in  his  boat.  That 
is  how  they  dared  do  it." 

"Look!"  gasped  Elsie;  "see  how  they  are  fighting 
now !  It  is  dreadful !" 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  but  the  other 
girl  continued  to  watch  the  fighting  lads,  her  heart  beat- 
ing in  sympathy  for  Frank  Merriwell. 

Radford  was  a  savage  fighter,  and  Merry  found  him 


120  Against  Odds. 

even  more  formidable  than  Rolf  Harlow.  Radford 
was  a  member  of  the  Alexandria  Athletic  Club,  al- 
though he  had  been  stopping  in  Blue  Cove  a  few  days. 

Frank  did  not  escape  some  punishment,  but  he  skill- 
fully managed  to  cause  his  enemies  to  interfere  with 
each  other  to  a  certain  extent,  and  when  he  did  strike 
a  blow  they  were  certain  to  feel  it. 

Three  times  was  Harlow  sent  to  grass,  and  Radford 
was  knocked  down  twice,  the  second  blow  causing  blood 
to  spurt  from  his  nose,  on  which  Merriwell's  hard  fist 
had  landed. 

Still,  encouraging  each  other,  they  pressed  Frank 
hard.  Finally,  Radford  got  in  a  blow  that  brought 
Merriwell  to  his  knees. 

Elsie,  who  had  uncovered  her  eyes,  screamed  with 
fear,  and  held  her  hands  over  her  face  once  more. 

Kate  quivered  with  excitement  and  fear. 

"Oh,  the  cowards !"  she  exclaimed.  "He  could  whip 
either  one  of  them  alone!" 

"And  I  can  whip  them  both  together !"  panted  Frank, 
who  caught  her  words. 

"On  him — on  him !"  shouted  Harlow.  "Now  is  our 
time  to  do  him  up !  We  can  finish  him  in  a  hurry !" 

Both  boys  rushed  at  Frank.  Radford  was  in  ad- 
vance. Merriwell  ducked  and  arose.  He  had  grasped 
Radford  about  the  ankles,  and  he  lifted  the  fellow  into 
the  air,  flinging-  him  clean  over  his  head ! 

Radford  fell  and  struck  on  his  back  while  Frank 
was  barely  in  time  to  grapple  with  Haiv»w.  Rolf's 


Against  Odds.  121 

rush  swept  Merriwell  back,  and  both  fell  over  Rad- 
ford's  prostrate  form. 

Then  the  latter  made  a  scramble,  and  the  two  pinned 
Frank  to  the  ground ! 

They  had  him  foul  at  last! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

FRANK     AND     ELSIE. 

As  well  might  they  have  tried  to  hold  an  eel.  With 
a  squirming  twist,  Frank  managed  to  writhe  from  be- 
neath them,  somehow  thumping  their  heads  together  till 
they  were  dazed  by  the  stars  that  seemed  to  flash  before 
their  eyes.  While  they  were  in  this  condition,  he  got 
upon  his  feet,  breathing  heavily,  but  laughing  as  if  it 
were  a  matter  of  sport. 

Harlow  and  Radford  sprang  up  quickly.  They  lo- 
cated Frank,  and,  though  amazed  by  the  manner  in 
which  he  had  escaped  them,  renewed  the  attack. 

Now  all  three  were  righting  somewhat  slower,  as  if 
the  strain  upon  them  was  telling  on  their  wind. 

The  struggle  was  still  raging  when  a  stout,  motherly- 
looking  woman,  with  a  basket  in  her  hand,  came  around 
the  corner,  and  stopped,  staring  in  amazement  at  the 
scene. 

"Well,  I  never!"  she  exclaimed. 

The  girls  heard  her,  saw  her,  flew  to  her. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Barnaby !"  cried  Elsie. 

"Oh,  Aunt  Hannah!"  exclaimed  Kate. 

"Stop  them !"  palpitated  the  girl  with  the  blue  eyes 
and  golden  hair. 

"Drive  away  those  horrid  fellows  who  are  trying  to 
whip  the  one  in  the  bicycle  suit !"  urged  the  other  girl. 


Frank  and  Elsie.  133 

"What's  all  the  row  about,  anyhow?"  asked  the 
woman. 

Then,  hurriedly  and  brokenly,  the  two  girls  told  her 
what  had  happened.  Her  kindly  face  grew  stern  and 
her  eyes  flashed  as  she  listened. 

"The  rascals!"  she  exploded.  "They  oughter  be 
hoss-whipped !  I'd  like  to  do  it,  too!  Hey!  you  git 
out!" 

She  flourished  her  hands  and  swung  the  basket  about, 
but  the  fighting  lads  did  not  heed  her  command. 

Then  Aunt  Hannah  hastened  forward  boldly  and 
resolutely  struck  Rolf  Harlow  over  the  head  with  the 
basket. 

Smash — spatter ! 

The  basket  contained  eggs,  and  they  were  broken 
and  smashed  over  Harlow's  head.  Out  flew  the  sticky, 
yellow  mass,  spattering  all  over  Rolf. 

A  howl  of  astonishment  and  dismay  broke  from  the 
lips  of  the  rascal,  and  then,  taking  one  look  at  the  angry 
woman,  he  turned  and  fled,  while  Kate  Spencer 
screamed  with  laughter. 

Seeing  he  was  deserted,  Berlin  Radford  did  not  de- 
lay about  following  his  friend,  and  the  two  were  heard 
scrambling  up  the  path,  and  uttering  cries  of  impotent 
rage. 

There  was  a  hammock  near,  in  which  Elsie  Belhvood 
had  been  reclining  when  Rolf  Harlow  came  upon  her. 
and  into  it  Kate  Spencer  dropped,  holding  her  hand- 
kerchief to  her  face  and  laughing  as  if  she  would  lose 
her  breath. 

"Oh,  goodness!"  she  cried.     "Oh,  Aunt  Hannah! 


124  Frank  and  Elsie. 

didn't  you  do  it  that  time !  Ha !  ha !  ha !  How  aston- 
ished and  disgusted  that  chap  looked!  And  what  a 
spectacle  he  made  as  he  stood  there,  with  those  broken 
eggs  dripping  down  his  face  and  neck!  Oh!  oh!  oh! 
Brother  Kent  will  die  when  I  tell  him  about  this !" 

"The  rascals!"  burst  forth  the  woman,  as  she  stood 
with  her  smashed  and  dripping  basket  in  her  hand,  re- 
garding it  in  dismay.  "All  them  good  eggs  broke  to 
pieces,  and  I  jest  bought  'em  over  at  the  store !  Who's 
goin'  to  pay  for  them  eggs?" 

"I  will  be  happy  to  pay  for  them,"  laughed  Frank. 
"It  was  worth  the  price  of  a  bushel  of  eggs  to  see  Rolf 
Harlow  after  you  struck  him  with  the  basket.  I  have 
to  thank  you  for  saving  me  the  trouble  of  finishing  both 
those  chaps." 

Elsie  ran  to  Frank. 

"Oh,  are  you  hurt  much?"  she  fluttered.  "I  am 
afraid  you  are  hurt!" 

"Not  a  bit,  dear  little  girl,"  smiled  Merry,  tenderly. 
"They  did  thump  me  a  few  times,  but  all  that  thumping 
did  not  damage  me  at  all." 

It  was  nearly  ten  minutes  before  Kate  Spencer  could 
stop  laughing,  and  for  an  hour  afterward  she  would 
break  out  occasionally  when  she  remembered  how  Har- 
low had  looked  after  being  struck  by  the  basket. 

The  whole  affair  was  explained  to  Mrs.  Barnaby,  and 
Frank  was  introduced.  He  promised  to  send  her  over 
another  basket  of  eggs  from  the  store,  which  eased 
her  feelings  greatly. 

"I'm  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Merriwell,  sir,"  said  the 


Frank  and  Elsie.  125 

good  woman.  "Elsie  has  told  us  lots  about  ye,  but  I 
never  expected  to  see  you  here." 

Frank  explained  how,  by  accident,  he  came  to  be 
there,  telling  of  the  treacherous  work  in  which  he  had 
detected  Harlow  not  long  before. 

"The  fellow  must  have  come  directly  here  after  re- 
turning to  Blue  Cove,"  he  said.  "And  that  other  chap 
was  the  spy." 

"That  other  chap  has  been  stopping  at  the  Cove  a  few 
days,"  said  Kate  Spencer.  "He  thinks  he  is  a  masher, 
and  he  was  determined  to  force  his  attentions  upon  me." 

After  they  had  talked  a  short  time,  Mrs.  Barnaby 
went  into  the  house,  and  Kate,  seeing  Frank  and  Elsie 
wished  to  be  alone,  soon  excused  herself  and  left  them 
seated  in  the  hammock. 

"Oh,  Frank,"  whispered  Elsie,  looking  up  at  him 
with  her  innocent  blue  eyes,  "I  am  so  glad  to  see  you 
again !  I  had  begun  to  fear  we'd  never  see  each  other 
any  more." 

"And  I  had  begun  to  fear  so  myself,  dear  little  girl," 
he  confessed.  "I  did  not  know  where  you  were,  for 
you  were  sailing  over  the  world  with  your  father,  and 
you  did  not  have  any  permanent  address." 

"You  did  not  answer  the  last  two  letters  I  wrote 
you." 

"I  answered  every  letter  I  received  from  you,  Elsie. 
It  must  be  they  did  not  reach  me." 

A  look  of  relief  added  to  the  happiness  of  her  sweet 
face. 

"And  I  thought  you  were  getting  so  far  above  the 


120  Frank  and  Elsie. 

sea  captain's  poor  little  daughter  that  you  did  not  wish 
to  answer.  I  heard  that  you  were  in  college,  and  that 
you  had  become  famous,  and — and  all  that.  Oh, 
Frank!  you  cannot  know  how  I  waited,  and  watched, 
and  longed  for  an  answer  to  my  letters!" 

"It  was  a  shame,  little  girl!  But  you  should  have 
known  me  better  than  to  think  I  would  forget  you. 
You  should  have  known  that,  no  matter  what  fortune 
might  befall  me,  I  could  not  forget  you,  I  have 
thought  of  you  a  hundred — a  thousand — a  million 
times !  I  have  longed  to  see  you  more  than  I  can  tell !" 

His  arm  was  about  her  waist,  and  he  drew  her  close. 
Her  golden  head  fell  on  his  shoulder,  and  she  smiled 
up  into  his  eyes. 

"How  does  it  happen  that  I  find  you  here  ?"  he  asked. 

"Capt.  Barnaby  is  one  of  father's  old  sailor  friends. 
He  has  told  father  many  times  that  I  could  have  a 
home  with  him,  and  at  last,  when  I  was  tired  of  going 
to  sea,  father  sent  me  here.  Here  I  met  Kate  Spencer. 
Mrs.  Barnaby  is  her  own  aunt." 

"And  you  are  not  going  to  sea  any  more?" 

"No ;  I  am  tired  of  it.  I  have  tried  to  induce  father 
to  leave  the  sea  and  settle  down,  but  he  always  says: 
'After  one  more  voyage.'  I'm  afraid  he'll  never  give 
it  up.  He  was  rich  once,  you  know,  but  he  put  all  his 
money  in  ships,  and  his  ships  met  with  bad  fortune,  so 
he  lost  everything.  It  is  his  dream  to  wrest  fortune 
from  the  sea  once  more." 

"I  am  glad  you  are  going  to  sea  no  more,  for  now  I 
shall  know  where  to  find  you,  and  you  will  receive  a*1 
my  letters." 


Frank  and  Elsie.  127 

"Oh,  Frank!"  she  murmured;  "I  believe  you  are 
braver  and  nobler  than  you  used  to  be — if  possible." 

"And  you,  Elsie — why,  I  didn't  dream  you  could  be- 
come prettier  than  you  were,  but  you  have!" 

Light-hearted,  whistling  on  his  way,  Frank  returned 
to  the  hotel  at  Blue  Cove. 

Kent  Spencer,  who  was  seated  in  a  bamboo  chair  on 
the  veranda,  smiled  on  him  as  he  approached. 

"Well,  Mr.  Merriwell,"  he  called,  "I  should  say  by 
your  face  that  you  have  found  the  friend  I  told  you 
about?" 

Frank  laughed  and  nodded,  blushing  a  bit. 

"You  are  right,"  he  confessed ;  "and  it  was  the  sur- 
prise of  my  life.  But  it  was  lucky  I  went  over,  for  I 
was  just  in  time  to  protect  her  from  Rolf  Harlow.  By 
the  way,  have  you  seen  Harlow  within  a  short  time?" 

"I  have,"  nodded  Spencer;  "and  I  rather  fancy  I 
know  the  spy  you  saw  with  him.  Something  had  hap- 
pened to  Harlow  when  he  showed  up  at  the  hotel  a 
short  time  ago,  for  his  clothes  were  very  wet,  and  he 
looked  wretched  and  disgusted.  A  fellow  by  the  name 
of  Berlin  Radford  was  with  him." 

Frank  laughed  heartily. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  happened  to  Harlow,"  he  said, 
and  then  proceeded  to  describe  the  fight,  and  the  climax 
when  Mrs.  Barnaby  struck  Rolf  over  the  head  with  the 
basket  of  eggs. 

Spencer  joined  in  Frank's  merriment. 

"He  had  washed  the  broken  eggs  from  his  clothes, 
and  that  is  why  they  were  so  wet,"  declared  Kent 

"Where  are  those  fellows  now?" 


ia8  Frank  and  Elsie. 

"They're  gone/' 

"Gone?    Where?" 

"I  don't  know  where,  but  they  ordered  a  carriage  as 
soon  as  they  reached  the  hotel,  and  it  did  not  take  them 
long  to  pack  up  and  get  out.  I  am  inclined  to  think 
they  are  gone  for  good." 

"Which  may  prove  a  lucky  thing  for  them." 

"I  rather  fancy  so,  as  I  should  have  called  Radford  to 
account  for  annoying  my  sister.  Wasn't  he  the  spy 
you  caught?" 

"He  was,"  nodded  Frank. 

"I  fancied  as  much  when  I  saw  him  with  Harlow. 
You  have  done  Blue  Cove  Academy  a  great  service  to- 
day, Mr.  Merriwell.  We  did  not  suspect  Harlow.  As 
for  Radford,  he  has  been  here  but  a  few  days.  It  must 
be  that  he  is  a  member  of  the  Alexandria  Athletic  Club, 
although  we  did  not  know  it.  I  didn't  think  those  fel- 
lows up  there  would  resort  to  such  low  tricks ;  but  they 
are  bound  to  beat  us  this  year  and  win  back  the  title  of 
champions,  which  they  lost  last  year.  They  have 
money,  and  I  understand  they  are  betting  heavily  that 
they  will  win." 

"I  hope  you  will  let  our  crew  into  this  race,"  said 
Frank.  "It  will  add  to  the  sport,  even  if  you  row 
Alexandria,  which  I  think  you  had  better  do." 

"I  will  see  that  a  meeting  of  the  association  is  called 
immediately,  and  the  matter  shall  be  considered.  I  am 
for  taking  you  in.  If  Alexandria  kicks,  let  them  stay 
out." 

Frank  expressed  his  satisfaction  if  such  arrangement 
could  be  made,  and  then  went  up  to  his  room. 


Frank  and  Elsie.  129 

An  hour  later,  the  others  of  the  Yale  Combine  ar- 
rived at  the  hotel,  Diamond  in  the  lead,  and  Hans  Dun- 
nerwust  bringing  up  the  rear,  as  usual. 

At  least  a  dozen  of  the  Blue  Cove  Academy  boys 
were  on  hand  to  greet  the  young  bicyclists,  who  gave  a 
cheer  when  they  saw  Frank  come  out  of  the  hotel. 

"Hurro!"  shouted  Barney.  "Here  we  are  Frankie, 
me  b'y!" 

"Yaw!"  cried  Hans;  "here  you  vos,  Vrankie,  mein 
poy !  You  peen  glat  to  seen  us,  ain't  id  ?" 

"Gol  darn  my  punkins!"  drawled  Ephraim  Gallup; 
"but  this  here  is  a  slick  place,  I  snum !" 

"Diamond  tells  us  there  is  a  chance  for  some  sport 
here,"  said  Rattleton.  "That's  what  we're  looking  for, 
you  bet!" 

Bruce  groaned. 

"I'm  looking  for  quinine,  blankets,  hot  water,  pep- 
per tea,  any  old  thing  to  warm  me  up!"  he  said.  "I 
feel  another  of  those  confounded  Arkansas  chills  com- 
ing on." 

Then  Frank  introduced  his  friends  to  Kent  Spencer, 
and  there  followed  a  general  case  of  introducing.  The 
Blue  Cove  lads  seemed  a  rather  pleasant  set  of  fellows, 
reminding  Frank  and  his  friends  of  the  Lake  Lily 
boys. 

Browning  did  not  stop  for  introductions,  but  hustled 
into  the  hotel,  and  lost  no  time  in  beginning  the  battle 
to  ward  off  a  chill.  Browning's  chills  were  unpleasant 
for  him,  but  they  were  the  subject  of  much  joking  on 
the  part  of  his  comrades. 

Frank  had  been    certain   that   the   boys  would  be 


130  Frank  and  Elsie. 

hungry  when  they  arrived,  and  he  had  ordered  a  square 
meal  served  for  them  all,  so  that  the  table  was  ready 
for  them  shortly  after  they  appeared  and  washed  up  in 
their  rooms. 

Browning  was  on  the  bed,  covered  with  quilts  and 
blankets,  which  he  had  pilfered  from  the  beds  of  the 
other  fellows,  gulping  down  quinine  in  huge  doses  and 
groaning  dismally. 

"Aren't  you  coming  down  to  get  something  to  eat, 
old  fellow  ?"  asked  Hodge. 

"Oh,  yes,  I'm  cuc-cuc-cuc-coming  down  to  eat!" 
chattered  Bruce,  sarcastically.  "I'd  enjoy  eating, 
wouldn't  I?" 

"We'll  have'  something  good,"  grinned  Rattleton. 
"We'll  have  posen  frudding — I  mean  frozen  pudding.'* 

"Boo!"  gasped  the  big  fellow.  "Dud — dud-don't 
speak  of  it !" 

"And  ice  cream — good,  cold  ice  cream." 

"Gug-gug-get  out  bub-bub-bub-before  I  tut-tut- 
throw  you  out!"  roared  Browning,  in  exasperation. 
"You  are  tut-tut-taking  your  life  in  your  hand  when 
you  cuc-cuc-come  around  me  talking  about  ice  cuc-cuc- 
cuc Confound  it !  get  out !" 

Then  the  laughing  lads  left  him  alone  in  his  misery. 

It  was  a  jolly  meal  in  the  cool  dining-room  of -.the 
little  hotel.  The  boys  cracked  jokes,  told  stories, 
laughed  and  enjoyed  themselves  fully. 

In  the  midst  of  it  all,  Browning  stalked  into  the 
room,  bundled  to  his  ears  in  blankets. 

"Say,"  he  called,  "is  there  any  good,  hot  tea  or 
coffee?" 


Frank  and  Elsie.  131 

"Plenty  of  it,"  assured  Merriwell. 

"Gimme  a  cup — quick!" 

Bruce  found  a  seat  at  the  table,  and  Frank  ordered  a 
cup  of  tea  to  be  brought.  Then,  while  Rattleton  and 
Mulloy  were  condoling  with  Browning  over  his  mis- 
fortune, Merriwell  gave  the  waiter  a  tip  to  bring  a  cup 
of  cracked  ice  with  the  tea,  but  to  place  it  beside  Frank's 
plate. 

The  waiter  obeyed  the  order,  and  soon  the  tea,  boil- 
ing hot,  was  before  Browning.  Bruce  was  so  eager  to 
swallow  something  hot  that  he  caught  it  up  and  gulped 
down  nearly  half  of  it.  Then  he  uttered  a  roar  of 
dismay. 

"Confound  it!"  he  cried,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak. 
"That  tea  has  taken  the  skin  off  all  the  way  down !  I'm 
parboiled  inside!  Oh,  great  Caesar!" 

"You  wanted  it  hot,"  said  Rattleton.  "The  waiter 
brought  it  hot,  so  you  could  cool  it  to  suit  yourself." 

"That  ought  to  break  up  your  chill,"  laughed  Frank. 

Browning  groaned. 

"I  wish  I'd  never  seen  Arkansas!"  he  declared. 
"We'd  been  all  right  if  Merriwell  hadn't  tried  to  carry 
out  his  scheme  of  riding  through  the  eastern  part  of  the 
State.  I  caught  the  ague  in  those  howling  swamps, 
and  goodness  knows  when  I'll  get  rid  of  it !" 

"Vot  you  vants  to  done,"  said  Hans,  "is  to  froze  dot 
ague  oudt.  Uf  you  sot  yourselluf  down  mit  an  ice- 
houses in  und  stayed  there  elefen  or  nine  hours,  you 
shook  all  der  ague  away  britty  queek.  Yaw !" 

"Oh,  yes !"  grunted  the  afflicted  lad.     "That  is  a  fine 


132  Frank  and  Elsie. 

scheme !  All  you  need  is  a  pill  box  and  a  few  brains  to 
become  a  first-class  doctor.  I  don't  think!" 

He  tried  to  cool  his  tea  so  that  he  could  drink  it. 
After  a  time,  he  was  able  to  sip  it.  Then  Frank  caught 
Harry's  eye,  and  made  a  signal  that  Rattleton  under- 
stood. Immediately  Harry  engaged  Browning's  atten- 
tion. Bruce  sat  the  cup  of  tea  down  a  moment,  and 
Frank  quickly  exchanged  it  for  the  cup  of  cracked  ice. 

After  a  bit,  the  big  fellow  took  the  cup  by  the  handle, 
and,  feeling  sure  the  tea  must  be  cool  enough  for  him 
to  drink  with  impunity,  lifted  it  and  took  a  mouthfuJ 
of  the  fine  cracked  ice. 

If  possible,  that  gave  Bruce  a  greater  shock  than  he 
had  received  from  the  scalding  tea.  Some  of  the  ice 
slipped  down  his  throat,  and  with  a  shout  of  rage,  the 
big  fellow  sprang  up  from  the  table  and  rushed  from 
the  room,  his  blankets  flopping  about  his  heels. 

And  all  those  jolly,  heartless  jokers  at  the  table 
shouted  with  laughter  once  more. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

A    BOXING     MATCH. 

That  afternoon,  the  Yale  lads  were  invited  down  to 
the  combined  clubhouse  and  boathouse  of  the  Blue  Cove 
boys.  They  went  along  in  a  body,  Browning  having 
recovered  sufficiently  to  make  one  of  the  party. 

The  boathouse  was  built  over  the  edge  of  the  water, 
and  a  wing  of  it  served  as  a  clubroom.  The  regular 
eight-oar  racing  boat  lay  high  and  dry  on  her  brackets, 
and  the  visitors  inspected  her  with  interest. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her,  Merriwell?"  asked  Kent 
Spencer,  rather  anxiously. 

"She's  all  right,"  nodded  Frank.  "It  is  plain  she  is 
a  new  boat,  and  made  from  an  up-to-date  model." 

"We  bought  her  last  season.  She  is  the  first  really 
good  boat  we  ever  owned,  and  that  is  how  we  happened 
to  win  the  championship  from  Alexandria.  She  cost 
us  a  pretty  sum,  but  we  more  than  made  it  up  on  the 
race." 

The  final  words  were  murmured  into  Frank's  ear, 
and  Merriwell  understood  that,  although  betting  on 
the  races  was  forbidden,  the  Blue  Cove  lads  had  found 
a  way  to  win  some  of  the  money  Alexandria  was  so 
willing  to  stake  on  her  crew. 

"Our  old  boat  was  too  wide  in  the  waist,"  Spencer 
explained.  "She  could  not  slip  through  the  water  as 


134  A  Boxing  Match. 

easily  as  this  one.  I  presume  this  may  be  improved 
upon,  but  I  can't  see  how." 

"Nor  can  I,"  confessed  Frank.  "If  you  do  not  win 
the  race  this  season,  it  is  certain  the  boat  will  not  be  the 
cause  of  your  defeat." 

Besides  the  large  boat,  there  was  a  four-oared  shellt 
also  new  and  handsome.  This  attracted  no  little  at- 
tention and  admiration  from  the  Yale  lads. 

When  the  boats  had  been  inspected,  the  visitors  were 
invited  into  the  clubroom,  which  they  found  comfort- 
ably furnished,  with  large  windows,  which  could  be 
opened  to  let  the  cool  air  sweep  through  the  place. 
Everything  about  the  place  was  clean  and  in  perfect 
order. 

"It  is  an  ideal  summer  clubhouse,"  declared  Frank, 
as  he  looked  about  admiringly. 

There  were  two  large  tables,  upon  which  were  papers 
and  sporting  magazines.  About  the  tables  were  strong 
but  cheap  hardwood  or  rattan  chairs.  All  around  the 
room  ran  a  stationary  settee  against  the  wall.  On  the 
walls  were  pictures,  nearly  all  of  a  sporting  character. 
There  was  a  picture  of  a  yacht  race,  besides  imaginative 
pictures  of  a  football  match  and  a  game  of  baseball.  A 
prominent  picture  was  that  of  a  great  single-scull  rower. 
There  were  also  pictures  of  bicycle  races. 

One  thing  Frank  noticed  with  intense  satisfaction. 
There  were  no  pictures  of  professional  sports  and  prize 
fighters. 

"Now,  fellows,"  cried  Jack  Diamond,  "what  do  you 
think  of  Virginia  and  Virginia  boys?" 

And  from  the  Yale  crowd  came  a  shout  of: 


A  Boxing  Match.  135 

"They're  all  right!" 

The  Blue  Cove  boys  did  what  they  could  to  make 
the  visitors  comfortable,  and  a  general  jolly  afternoon 
was  spent.  For  amusement,  Hans  and  Ephraim  were 
induced  to  don  the  gloves  and  have  a  bout. 

"Vot  you  pet  you  don'd  knocked  me  oudt  der  virst 
roundt  in,  Efy?"  grinned  the  jolly  Dutch  lad.  "You 
oxpect  I  peen  a  holy  derror  der  cloves  mit,  eh?" 

"Gol  darned  ef  I  know  anything  abaout  ye!"  an- 
swered the  Vermonter,  as  he  stuffed  his  long  fingers 
down  into  the  gloves.  "All  I  want  is  plenty  of  room, 
an'  there  ain't  enough  in  here,  b'gosh !" 

"Yaw,  you  gif  me  blenty  uf  rooms,"  urged  Hans. 
"Vy  you  don'd  come  der  odder  part  uf  der  puilding 
indo,  hey?" 

"That'll  suit  me.     Come  on." 

So  out  they  went  into  the  room  where  the  boats  were 
kept. 

"You  want  to  look  out  for  the  slip/'  said  Spencer. 
"You  might  fall  into  the  water,  and — • — " 

He  did  not  say  more,  for  he  saw  Frank  violently 
shaking  his  head,  and  tumbled  to  the  fact  that  Merri- 
well  did  not  want  the  boxers  warned  against  the  open- 
ing by  which  a  boat  could  be  rowed  into  that  very  room. 

Ephraim  seemed  to  feel  lively  and  belligerent  as  soon 
as  he  pulled  on  the  gloves,  for  he  pranced  around  Hans> 
making  furious  feints  and  chuckling: 

"Oh,  jeewhiskers !  ain't  this  goin'  to  be  a  reg'lar  darn 
picnic !  We'll  have  heaps  of  fun  thumpin'  an'  punchin* 
each  other,  Dutchy." 

"Yaw,"  grinned  Hans,  but  with  a  sudden  expression 


i}6  A  Boxing  Match. 

of  dubiousness,  "it  peen  goin'  to  be  so  much  fun  as 
nefer  vas.  Vot  you  pet  on  der  game?  Vot  you  pet 
you  don'd  lick  me?  I  know  I  can  let  you  done  dot, 
und  I  pet  von  tollars  on  him.  Uf  you  got  der  nerfe, 
you  pet  me  dot." 

"Don't  talk  about  betting,  but  come  an*  see  me!" 
cried  Ephraim,  still  prancing  about  and  flourishing  his 
arms. 

"Oh,  you  peen  in  a  pig  hurry,  don'd  id,"  cried  Hans. 
"Vale,  look  avay  oudt !" 

Then  he  made  a  rush  at  Ephraim,  who  simply 
straightened  out  one  of  his  long  arms,  permitting  the 
Dutch  boy  to  run  against  his  glove. 

With  a  terrific  thump,  Hans  sat  down  on  the  floor. 

"Yow!"  he  cried.  "Oxcuse  me  for  dot!  I  didn't 
know  you  vas  lookin'!  Uf  you  hurted  mein  nose,  I 
didn't  meant  to  done  id." 

The  witnesses  laughed,  and  Hans  got  upon  his  feet 

"Come  on !"  invited  Ephraim.     "Come  right  at  me!" 

"I  peen  goin'  to  done  dot  britty  queek,  you  pets  my 
poots!"  declared  Hans,  as  he  bounced  around  the 
Yankee  boy,  keeping  at  a  safe  distance.  "Der  nexd 
dime  you  hit  me,  id  vill  pe  mit  you  faces  mein  fist  on. 
Yaw!" 

"Brace  up  to  him,  ye  Dutch  chaze!"  urged  Barney, 
who  began  to  itch  all  over  at  the  sight  of  anything  re- 
sembling a  "scrap."  "Don't  let  th'  long-legged  farmer 
be  afther  froightenin'  yez." 

"Who  vos  frightened?"  demanded  Hans.  "He 
don'd  peen  afraidt  uf  me.  I  vas  goin'  to  shown  him  a 
trick  vot  I  nefer  seen.  Here  id  vas,  py  shimminy !" 


A  Boxing  Match.  137 

Then  he  made  another  rush  at  Ephraim,  who  thrust 
out  his  fist  once  more,  expecting  the  Dutch  lad  to  run 
against  it.  But  Hans  had  not  forgotten  what  happened 
the  first  time,  and  he  dodged  under  Ephraim's  glove, 
and  gave  the  Yankee  lad  a  terrific  thump  just  below  the 
belt. 

With  a  howl,  Ephraim  doubled  up  like  a  jackknife, 
holding  both  hands  to  his  abdomen  and  turning  purple 
in  the  face. 

"Yah!"  shouted  Hans,  triumphantly.  "Vot  you 
toldt  me  a  minute  ago,  ain'd  id  ?  I  know  I  peen  goin' 
to  done  dot !  Oh,  I  vas  a  holy  derror  somedimes !" 

"Gol — darn — yeou!"  gasped  Ephraim.  "Yeou  hit 
— me — below — the — belt !" 

"Yaw,"  nodded  Hans;  "you  pet  I  done  dot.  I 
known  der  blace  vot  takes  uf  you  der  vindt  oudt,  und  I 
don'd  haf  a  latter  to  climb  higher  up  mit." 

Ephraim  was  mad.  As  soon  as  he  could  straighten 
up,  he  sailed  into  Hans  in  earnest,  and  the  spectators 
shouted  with  delight  at  the  spectacle. 

To  the  surprise  of  all,  the  fat  little  Dutchman  proved 
a  rather  stiff  antagonist  for  the  Vermonter.  It  made 
no  difference  to  Hans  where  he  struck  Ephraim,  and 
he  managed  to  duck  under  the  Yankee  lad's  wicked 
blows. 

In  their  excitement,  the  boxers  did  not  observe  that 
they  were  working  toward  the  open  slip,  assisted  by 
Frank  and  his  friends,  who  pressed  upon  them  from  the 
opposite  side. 

Suddenly,  as  he  was  being  pressed  close,  Hans 
dodged  under  Ephraim's  guard  and  clutched  the  coun- 


138  A  Boxing  Match. 

try  lad  about  the  waist  Gallup  wound  his  long  arm* 
around  Hans'  neck,  and  they  swayed  and  strained  in 
each  other's  grasp. 

It  was  uncertain  whether  they  staggered  of  their  own 
accord  or  were  given  a  slight  push,  but  all  at  once  they 
reeled  and  went  over  into  the  slip. 

There  was  a  great  splash  as  they  struck  the  water, 
and  they  vanished  from  view,  still  locked  in  each  other's 
arms. 

In  a  moment  they  came  up,  having  broken  apart. 

"Hellup!"  squawked  Hans. 

"Help!"  howled  Ephraim. 

They  splashed  about  wildly,  clutched  each  other 
again,  and  sank  once  more,  while  the  boys  in  the  boat- 
house  screamed  with  laughter. 

"They  are  frightened  enough  to  hang  onto  each  other 
and  drown  right  there,"  said  Frank.  "We  must  help 
them  out." 

So  Merriwell  and  Rattleton  each  secured  a  boathook, 
and  as  soon  as  possible  hooked  it  into  the  clothes  of  the 
boys,  who  were  floundering  about  in  the  water. 

"Pull,  Harry!"  Frank  shouted. 

They  were  on  opposite  sides  of  the  slip,  and  so  they 
succeeded  in  dragging  Hans  and  Ephraim  apart,  for  all 
that  the  Dutch  boy  made  a  frantic  effort  to  hang  fast  to 
the  Vermonter. 

Harry  had  fastened  into  a  convenient  part  of  the 
Dutch  lad's  trousers,  while  Frank  had  hooked  onto 
Ephraim' s  belt.  The  latter  was  pulled  out  easily,  but 
the  fat  boy's  head  and  feet  hung  down,  and  Rattleton 
was  forced  to  call  for  assistance.  Fortunately,  Hans' 


A  Boxing  Match.  139 

pants  were  stout  in  that  particular  spot,  and  did  not 
give  way. 

When  the  boxers  were  brought  out,  they  sat  on  oppo- 
site sides  of  the  slip,  water  running  in  streams  from 
their  clothes,  and  stared  across  at  each  other  in  ludi- 
crous disgust  and  rage. 

"Gol  darn  ye!"  Ephraim  gurgled,  weakly  shaking 
his  fist  at  Hans.  "Yeou  was  to  blame  fer  that !  Ef  I 
could  reach  ye,  I'd  swat  ye  right  plumb  on  the  smeller, 
b'gosh!" 

"Yah!"  sneered  Hans,  shaking  his  fist  in  turn,  "uf 
I  peen  so  near  to  you  as  you  vos  to  me,  I  vould  gif  you 
somedings  dot  I  vouldn't  like,  und  don't  you  remember 
dot!" 

Then  the  spectators  shouted  with  merriment  once 
more. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE   CLUB    MEETING. 

That  evening  a  meeting1  of  the  Blue  Cove  Academy 
Athletic  Club  was  called  in  the  clubroom  of  the  boat- 
house,  and  every  member  in  the  vicinity  was  present. 

Frank  and  Jack  were  asked  to  attend  the  meeting, 
and  they  were  on  hand. 

When  the  meeting  had  been  formally  opened,  Kent 
Spencer  arose  and  explained  that  it  had  been  called  for 
two  reasons,  the  first  matter  for  consideration  being  the 
charge  of  double  dealing  and  treachery  which  he  should 
make  against  their  late  coach,  Rolf  Harlow. 

Then  the  red-haired  boy,  Fred  Dobbs,  who  was  sec- 
retary of  the  club,  said  he  had  a  brief  communication 
from  Harlow,  which  would  render  it  quite  unnecessary 
for  them  to  go  through  a  regular  investigation,  and  call 
the  two  witnesses,  Merriwell  and  Diamond,  who  were 
present 

"This  note,"  Dobbs  explained,  "was  left  at  the  hotel 
by  Harlow  when  he  suddenly  decided  to  get  out  of 
Blue  Cove  to-day.  The  clerk  forgot  it,  and  did  not 
hand  it  to  me  till  a  short  time  ago,  which  explains  how 
it  happens  that  I  have  not  spoken  of  it" 

He  then  proceeded  to  read  it  aloud.  It  ran  as 
follows : 

"MR.  FRED  DOBBS,  Secretary  B.  C.  A.  A.  C. 

"DEAR  SIR:   As  I  am  about  to  leave  Blue  Cove,  I 


The  Club  Meeting.  141 

write  this  to  let  you  know  that  your  entire  club,  and 
yourself  and  Kent  Spencer  in  particular,  are  a  lot  of 
chumps.  You  are  easy  stuff,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
Frank  Merriwell,  with  whom  I  will  yet  get  square,  I 
would  have  worked  you  for  a  jolly  good  haul  in  cold 
cash.  You  must  have  thought  me  a  fool  to  waste  niy 
time  coaching  you  for  the  paltry  sum  you  agreed  to  pay 
me.  I  am  out  for  dust,  and  I  generally  get  it.  I  in- 
tended to  fix  things  so  you  could  not  win  against  Alex- 
andria, and  I  should  have  had  a  good  sum  bet  against 
you,  being  certain  of  winning.  That  was  my  game, 
and  now  that  it  is  spoiled,  I  don't  care  who  knows  it. 
I  think  the  Alexandria  boys  will  win  anyhow.  As  for 
Merriwell's  charge  that  Mr.  Radford  was  sent  here  by 
Alexandria  as  a  spy,  there  is  nothing  in  it.  The  Alex- 
andria fellows  knew  nothing  about  his  being  here.  He 
is  a  friend  of  mine,  and,  as  I  had  advised  him  to  bet 
against  Blue  Cove,  he  wished  to  see  you  in  practice. 
That  is  all.  Yours  derisively,  ROLF  HARLOW/' 

This  insolent  and  insulting  note  brought  cries  of 
anger  from  the  listening  lads,  and  when  Dobbs  finished 
reading,  the  entire  club  was  in  an  uproar.  On  all  sides 
fierce  denunciations  of  Harlow  were  to  be  heard.  The 
things  said  about  Rolf  were  far  from  complimentary. 

Spencer,  who  was  president  of  the  club,  found  some 
difficulty  in  calling  the  excited  and  enraged  boys  to 
order.  A  dozen  times  he  hammered  on  the  table  be- 
fore him  wijjh  his  gavel,  sharply  commanding  them  to 
sit  down  and  be  still.  At  last  they  subsided,  grum- 
blingly,  scowling  and  muttering  to  each  other. 

Kent  then  arose  and  said : 

"Gentlemen,  we  should  thank  Mr.  Rolf  Harlow  for 
saving  us  the  trouble  of  an  investigation  by  frankly  ac- 


142  The  Club  Meeting. 

knowledging  himself  the  contemptible  and  pusillani- 
mous scoundrel  which  he  is.  A  fellow  who  could  make 
such  a  confession  without  shame — indeed,  a  fellow  who 
could  make  it  boastingly,  as  this  fellow  did,  is  not 
worthy  an  instant's  consideration  from  gentlemen!" 

"Right !  right !"  cried  the  boys. 

"All  there  is  to  be  considered  in  connection  with  this 
matter,  then,  is  whether  Alexandria  was  concerned  in 
this  dirty  game  or  not." 

"But  he  says  Alexandria  was  not,"  quickly  said  a  boy 
by  the  name  of  Anson  Addison. 

"And  I  would  not  believe  him  under  any  circum- 
stances !"  cried  Fred  Dobbs. 

Then  arose  another  discussion,  which  ended  in  the 
appointment  of  a  committee  to  discover,  if  possible,  if 
the  Alexandria  Club  had  resorted  to  such  a  sneaking 
and  ungentlemanly  trick. 

The  committee  listened  to  what  Frank  and  Jack  had 
to  tell  of  the  conversation  they  had  overheard  between 
Harlow  and  the  spy.  They  looked  serious,  and  were 
of  the  opinion  that  a  further  investigation,  seemed  cer- 
tain to  prove  beyond  a  doubt  that  Alexandria,  enraged 
by  their  defeat  of  the  previous  season,  had  resorted  to 
unfair  means  to  win  back  the  title  of  "champions." 

The  next  matter  that  came  before  the  meeting  was 
the  consideration  of  Frank  Merriwell's  proposal  to 
enter  the  race  with  his  Yale  Combine. 

As  soon  as  this  matter  was  called  up,  Anson  Addison 
jumped  to  his  feet  and  protested  against  considering  it 
while  two  members  of  the  Yale  Combine  were  present. 

Frank  and  Jack    immediately    arose  to  withdraw. 


The  Club  Meeting.  143 

Spencer  urged  them  to  stay,  saying  he  did  not  see  why 
they  should  not  remain,  but  they  excused  themselves 
and  left  the  room. 

Then  followed  a  red-hot  discussion  as  to  the  advisa- 
bility of  letting  Merriwell  and  his  friends  row  in  the 
race.  Addison  argued  against  it,  and  he  made  many 
strong  points.  He  claimed  that  the  Yale  Combine  was 
a  temporary  organization,  which  would  not  be  in  ex- 
istence long,  and  might  not  last  another  year.  If  it 
won  the  championship,  there  was  no  certainty  that  Blue 
Cove  would  get  another  opportunity  to  row  against  the 
combine.  Alexander  might  object  to  rowing  a  three- 
cornered  race ;  in  fact,  it  was  almost  certain  Alexandria 
would  object.  There  was  no  proof  that  Alexandria 
had  not  dealt  fairly  with  Blue  Cove,  and  if  the  Yale 
Combine  won  the  race,  and  failed  to  row  next  season, 
Alexandria  could  claim  Blue  Cove  had  lost  the  cham- 
pionship, which  would  give  them  an  opportunity  to  row 
against  some  other  organization  and  bar  Blue  Cove. 

Fred  Dobbs,  hot-headed  as  usual,  made  a  spirited  re- 
ply to  this,  but  was  checked  by  Spencer,  who  used  bet- 
ter judgment,  talking  quietly  and  calmly,  and  showing 
that  the  things  Addison  pretended  to  fear  were  not 
likely  to  happen.  He  also  showed  that  in  case  the 
charge  of  double  dealing  was  proven  against  Alexan- 
dria, Blue  Cove  might  bar  them,  and  give  them  no 
chance  to  make  any  claim  to  the  championship,  or  a 
right  to  win  it  back.  In  case  this  charge  was  proven, 
and  Alexandria  was  barred,  where  was  there  another 
crew  to  row  against  Blue  Cove  on  the  date  set  for  the 
event?  The  Yale  Combine  was  the  only  one,  as  a  race 


144  The  Club  Meeting. 

with  another  organization  could  not  be  arranged  in 
such  a  short  time. 

Addison  was  neither  silenced  nor  convinced,  but  the 
question  was  put  to  the  test,  and  but  two  votes  were 
cast  against  admitting  the  Yale  Combine  to  the  race. 

Then  the  meeting  adjourned,  and  several  of  the  Blue 
Cove  boys  hastened  to  notify  Merriwell  and  his  friends 
of  their  decision. 

Frank's  party  was  delighted,  for  here  was  fresh  sport 
for  them,  and  of  a  sort  they  had  not  encountered  on 
their  tour. 

"I  shall  take  a  train  for  Washington  to-morrow," 
said  Merriwell,  "and  see  what  I  can  do  about  securing 
an  eight-oar  shell." 

"An'  it's  oursilves  will  be  afther  gettin'  inther  thrain- 
in'  immediately  afther  ye  return  wid  it,  me  b'y!"  cried 
Barney. 

Frank  remembered  the  Irish  lad  had  been  handy  with 
an  oar  in  the  old  days  at  Fardale,  while  Ephraim,  at  one 
time  a  genuine  lubber,  had  been  to  sea  and  could  pull 
like  a  sailor.  Hans  was  the  one  Frank  feared  would 
cause  trouble,  but  he  said  nothing  of  his  fears.  It 
would  take  some  time  and  hard  work  to  hammer  his 
crew  into  any  sort  of  shape,  but  he  was  out  for  sport, 
and  to  him  work  of  such  a  nature  seemed  sport. 

On  the  following  morning  Frank  left  Blue  Cove  for 
the  nearest  railway  station,  where  he  boarded  a  train 
bound  for  Washington.  He  was  gone  more  than 
twenty-four  hours,  but  when  he  returned  he  announced 
that  a  boat  would  follow  him  shortly. 

That  very  afternoon  a  handsome  eight-oar  shell  was 


The  Club  Meeting.  145 

brought  to  Blue  Cove,  and  the  boys  received  it  with 
cheers  of  delight  and  admiration,  the  Blue  Cove  lads 
cheering  as  loudly  as  the  others. 

"Look  at  them!"  exclaimed  Diamond,  his  eyes  shin- 
,iig.  "True  sons  of  Old  Virginia,  every  one  of  them! 
Hearts  as  big  as  buckets  and  souls  as  large  as  their 
entire  bodies!  Virginia,  Virginia!  mother  of  presi- 
dents and  fairest  spot  of  all  our  glorious  country !  Who 
would  not  be  proud  to  call  you  home !" 

The  Blue  Cove  boys  permitted  the  Yale  Combine  to 
put  their  shell  in  the  boathouse,  and  for  more  than  an 
hour  the  place  was  filled  with  boys  who  were  making 
comparisons  between  the  two  boats.  The  final  decision 
of  nearly  all  was  that,  although  the  new  boat  showed  it 
was  new,  there  was  no  perceptible  difference  between 
them. 

Being  doubtful  about  Hans,  Frank  decided  to  take 
his  trial  trip  under  cover  of  darkness,  and  the  time 
was  set  for  that  evening. 

It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  when,  with  his  crew  in 
their  allotted  positions  and  himself  as  stroke,  Merriwell 
gave  the  word,  and  the  light  shell  slipped  out  from  be- 
neath the  shadow  of  the  boathouse  and  glided  away 
upon  the  calm  waters  of  Blue  Cove. 

To  Frank's  surprise,  Hans  could  row  far  better  than 
he  had  expected,  and  the  trial  was  fairly  satisfactory, 
although  it  was  apparent  that  the  boys  would  need  no 
small  amount  of  coaching  to  get  them  into  a  uniform 
and  even  stroke. 

How  this  coaching  was  to  be  done  puzzled  Merriwell 
not  a  little,  for  he  knew  he  must  be  out  of  the  boat  and 


146  The  Club  Meeting. 

in  position  to  watch  every  man  in  order  to  give  them 
points, 

"I'll  have  to  borrow  a  stroke  of  the  Blue  Cove 
chaps,"  he  thought  "Spencer's  work  is  all  right,  but 
it  would  overwork  him  to  take  my  place  occasionally." 

When  they  returned  to  the  boathouse,  they  found 
Spencer  and  Dobbs  awaiting  them. 

"Well,"  called  Kent,  "how  does  it  pan  out?" 

"The  boat  is  all  right,"  said  Frank,  "but  my  crew  is 
rather  rocky,  and  I  am  puzzled  to  know  how  I  am 
going  to  coach  it.  I  can't  do  it  in  the  boat,  but  I  don't 
know  where  I'll  find  a  substitute  to  take  my  place  occa- 
sionally. That's  what's  wanted." 

"Noel  Spudd  is  the  very  man !"  exclaimed  Dobbs. 

"Sure!"  nodded  Spencer. 

"Who  is  Noel  Spudd?"  asked  Frank. 

"Fellow  who  was  going  to  be  on  our  crew,  but  his 
father  would  not  let  him  stay  and  train,"  explained 
Kent.     "He  came  to  the  Cove  this  morning,  and  will' 
stay  after  the  race." 

"Can  he  row?" 

"Can  he?     He's  a  daisy!" 

"Then  he'll  do — if  I  can  get  him.  See  if  you  can  fix 
it  for  me,  Mr.  Spencer." 

Kent  promised  to  do  so,  if  possible,  and  then  the  new 
boat -was  lifted  out  of  the  water  for  the  night. 

The  following  morning  Spencer  brought  Noel  Spudd 
to  see  Frank.  Spudd  proved  to  be  a  pleasant-looking, 
freckle-faced  chap,  good-natured  and  obliging,  and  he 
agreed  to  help  Merriwell  out,  if  possible,  although  he 
was  anxious  that  his  father  should  not  find  it  out 


The  Club  Meeting.  147 

"You  see,  the  governor  is  a  crank,"  he  explained. 
"He  has  a  theory  that  violent  exercise  is  injurious  to 
anybody,  and  he  talks  about  enlargement  of  the  heart 
and  other  evils  that  follow  racing.  I  had  to  promise 
that  I  would  not  take  part  in  the  race  before  he'd  let 
me  come  to  the  Cove  to  see  it.  I'll  keep  my  promise, 
but  that  will  not  prevent  me  from  helping  the  thing 
along  by  aiding  in  the  practice." 

So  it  was  arranged,  and  Frank  lost  little  time  in  get- 
ting the  boys  together  and  putting  them  to  work. 

Browning  grumbled,  as  usual,  and  Rattleton  declared 
he  was  praying  for  a  chill,  that  he  might  get  out  of 
taking  part  in  the  work  of  training. 

Spudd  took  Frank's  place  in  the  boat,  and  Merry 
watched  his  crew  row  down  the  river,  after  which  he 
mounted  his  wheel  and  followed. 

For  an  hour  Frank  stood  in  a  favorable  position, 
watching  the  work  of  the  boys  in  the  boat  and  giving 
directions.  He  told  each  one  of  his  faults,  and  how  to 
correct  them,  and  by  the  end  of  the  hour  he  was  well 
pleased  with  the  progress  made. 

Of  course,  Merriwell  did  not  expect  to  have  a  per- 
fectly trained  crew,  capable  of  rowing  against  first-class 
college  crews,  but  he  believed  his  boys  could  be  whipped 
into  such  shape  that  they  would  stand  a  fair  chance  of 
winning  over  Blue  Cove  and  Alexandria. 

A  great  surprise  to  him  was  the  remarkable  manner 
in  which  Hans  Dunnerwust  showed  up  at  an  oar.  On 
the  land,  the  Dutch  boy  was  a  perfect  clown,  but  his 
whole  manner  and  appearance  changed  the  moment  he 


148  The  Club  Meeting. 

got  into  a  boat.  He  could  row  nearly  as  well  as  the 
best  of  them. 

Frank  felt  generous  in  the  matter  of  the  race,  for  cer- 
tainly Blue  Cove  had  been  most  generous  in  its  dealings 
with  the  strangers.  He  offered  to  take  Harlow's  placr 
as  coach  till  another  coach  could  be  secured. 

Spencer  appreciated  this,  and  the  offer  was  accepted, 
so  that  afternoon  found  Merriwell  on  the  river's  bank 
once  more,  shouting  his  commands  to  the  Blue  Cove 

crew. 

That  night  Kent  Spencer  publicly  declared  that  it 
was  his  conviction  that  the  crew  had  improved  more  in 
one  hour  under  Merriwell  than  during  the  entire  time 
Harlow  had  coached  it. 

Anson  Addison  was  the  only  one  who  was  not  en- 
thusiastic. He  remained  silent  and  sulky,  saying  noth- 
ing, but  thinking  a  great  deal. 

Addison  was  not  well  liked  at  Blue  Cove,  but  he  was 
something  of  an  all-around  athlete,  and  without  doubt 
as  good  a  man  with  an  oar  as  could  be  found  among  the 
academy  students.  He  was  considered  of  great  value 
to  the  academy  crew. 

Since  his  defeat  in  the  attempt  to  bar  the  Yale  Com- 
bine from  the  race,  Addison  had  sulked  and  held  him- 
self aloof,  refusing  to  speak  to  Frank  and  his  friends, 
whom  he  pronounced  "a  lot  of  plebes,  not  fit  associates 
for  any  gentleman." 

Addison's  friends  had  seen  him  sulky  before,  and 
Spencer  advised  them  to  let  him  alone,  saying  he  would 
get  over  it  after  a  while  if  he  was  not  troubled. 


CHAPTER  XVIL 

THE    EIGHT-OAR    SHELL. 

After  their  work  on  the  river,  the  boys  enjoyed  them- 
selves lolling  about  in  hammocks,  playing  tennis  and 
strolling  and  talking  with  the  pretty  girls  they  found  at 
the  Cove. 

The  girls  seemed  to  take  readily  to  the  newcomers, 
which  added  to  Addison's  hostility,  as  a  young  lady  on 
whom  he  had  bestowed  a  great  deal  of  attention  was 
quickly  appropriated  by  Bart  Hodge. 

It  was  a  remarkable  thing  that,  although  Bart  was  a 
serious  fellow,  with  a  rather  moody  face,  he  was  a  great 
favorite  with  the  girls.  There  was  some  sort  of  mag- 
netism about  him  that  attracted  them. 

Rattleton,  on  the  other  hand,  although  he  could  crack 
jokes  and  keep  a  party  shouting  with  laughter,  did  not 
seem  to  have  much  success  with  the  opposite  sex.  They 
all  pronounced  him  a  splendid  fellow,  but  it  was  seldom 
one  cared  to  take  a  stroll  with  him  or  swing  with  him 
in  a  hammock  on  the  hotel  veranda  of  a  moonlight 
evening. 

Frank  and  Jack  often  were  seen  taking  the  path  that 
led  over  to  the  little  hollow  in  which  stood  the  home  of 
Capt.  Barnaby. 

Elsie  Bellwood  was  there,  and  no  other  girl  could 
make  an  impression  on  Merriwell,  although  not  a  few 
of  them  tried. 


150  The  Eight-oar  Shell. 

Frank  had  introduced  Diamond  to  Kate  Spencer,  and 
Jack  was  smitten  with  her  immediately.  It  proved  to 
be  a  case  of  mutual  admiration,  for  Elsie  told  Frank 
that  Kate  had  "raved"  over  Jack  the  night  after  her 
first  meeting  with  him. 

"Frank,"  said  Jack,  as  they  were  returning  to  the 
hotel  the  evening  of  his  first  meeting  with  Kate,  "I  be- 
lieve Blue  Cove  is  the  place  for  me.  I  could  stay  here 
the  rest  of  my  life." 

Merriwell  chuckled  softly. 

"How  long  have  you  felt  that  way?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  But  this,  Merriwell,  is  Old  Vir- 
ginia, and  I  am  on  my  native  soil.  I  feel  like  myself 
once  more." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  declared  Merriwell,  "for  you 
were  like  anything  but  yourself  by  the  time  we  reached 
California,  I  never  saw  anything  make  such  a  change 
in  a  fellow  as  that  trip  across  the  continent  did  in  you. 
You  began  to  grumble  a  little  by  the  time  we  had 
passed  through  Jersey,  and  you  grew  worse  and  worse 
till  San  Francisco  was  reached.  By  that  time  there 
was  no  getting  along  with  you  in  peace.  But  when  we 
turned  toward  the  East  again,  you  grumbled  less  and 
less  till  Virginia  was  reached.  When  you  knew  you 
were  in  Virginia  once  more,  you  were  so  supremely 
happy  that  it  was  utterly  impossible  to  rufHe  your  tem- 
per. Even  Ward  Hammond  and  his  gang  did  not  seem 
to  stir  you  up  as  you  would  have  been  ordinarily.  And 

now — now What  do  you  think  of  Kate  Spencer, 

old  fellow?" 

"She's  a  darling!" 


The  Eight-oar  Shell.  151 

Frank  had  sprung  the  question  so  suddenly  that  the 
answer  came  from  Jack  before  the  latter  realized  what 
he  was  saying.  When  Frank  shouted  with  laughter, 
Jack  felt  the  hot  blood  rush  to  his  face,  but  he  dog- 
gedly said: 

"She  is  that!  Laugh  if  you  want  to!  I  don't 
care!" 

"It's  plain  it's  not  so  much  Blue  Cove  as  what  you 
have  found  at  Blue  Cove  that  is  attracting  you  and 
making  you  feel  as  if  you  could  stay  here  the  rest  of 
your  life." 

"I  don't  know  but  you  are  right,"  confessed  Jack, 
honestly. 

"Well,  I  don't  blame  you,"  declared  Frank.  "Kate 
is  a  fine  girl — not  quite  like  Elsie,  but  a  fine  girl,  all  the 
same." 

While  Frank  and  his  friends  were  enjoying  them- 
selves and  getting  ready  for  the  race,  Blue  Cove  was 
keeping  up  a  hot  correspondence  with  Alexandria,  the 
club  of  the  latter  place  having  protested  against  admit- 
ting the  Yale  Combine  to  the  race. 

Blue  Cove  insisted,  and  the  mail  bore  letters  each 
way.  At  last  Dobbs,  who  as  secretary  was  carrying 
on  the  correspondence  with  Alexandria,  plainly  hinted 
that  the  eight  of  the  latter  club  could  row  in  a  three- 
cornered  race  or  not  at  all. 

That  brought  a  proposal  from  Alexandria  that  the 
Yale  Combine  be  admitted  with  the  understanding  that 
it  was  to  row  for  honors  only.  If  it  won  over  both 
Blue  Cove  and  Alexandria,  it  was  not  to  claim  the 
championship  of  the  Potomac.  In  that  case,  the  cham- 


152  The  Eight-oar  Shell. 

pionship  remained  with  Blue  Cove.  But  if  Alexandria 
led  at  the  finish,  the  championship  was  *Q  go  to  the  lat- 
ter place. 

This  was  more  liberal  than  the  boys  of  Blue  Cove 
had  expected,  and  they  readily  accepted  the  terms,  so 
that  an  agreement  was  made  without  delay. 

From  this  proposal  from  Alexandria,  however,  it 
was  plain  she  expected  to  win  over  both  her  rivals. 
Otherwise  she  would  not  have  been  so  liberal. 

"She'll  have  to  hustle  if  she  does  that  trick,"  said 
Frank,  when  he  had  heard  of  the  final  settlement  of 
terms,  to  which  he  had  acceded  readily  enough,  as  he 
and  his  friends  were  out  for  the  sport  of  the  race,  and 
did  not  wish  to  carry  away  the  title  of  champions. 

"Marruk  me  worrud,"  said  Barney  Mulloy,  "it's 
some  sort  av  a  thrick  Alixandry  is  up  to,  ur  it's  nivver 
a  bit  she'd  make  such  a  proposal.  Look  out  fer  her!" 

One  thing  in  connection  with  the  regular  training 
for  the  race  proved  somewhat  unpleasant  for  "all  the 
boys.  They  possessed  hearty  appetites,  and  Merriwell 
laid  down  a  course  of  diet  to  which  he  insisted  that 
they  should  adhere.  For  Browning  and  Dunnerwust, 
this  was  particularly  hard,  as  each  possessed  an  enor- 
mous appetite,  and  was  in  the  habit  of  satisfying  it  to 
the  fullest  extent  whenever  possible. 

"When  I  have  a  chill,  I  can't  eat,  and  when  I  don't 
have  a  chill,  Merry  won't  let  me  eat,"  grumbled  the  big 
fellow.  "Sport!  Is  that  what  you  call  it?  Well, 
when  I  get  back  to  Old  Yale  I'll  forever  forswear  tak- 
ing part  in  anything  that  resembles  sport." 

"Yaw,"  grunted  Hans,  in  deep  disgust,  "dese  may  pe 


The  Eight-oar  Shell.  153 

fun  vor  me,  put  don't  you  pelief  me!  Mein  stomach 
veels  shust  like  a  raw  tog  could  ead  me.  You  don'd 
peen  veil  ven  mein  stomach  veels  dot  vay,  eh,  Frown- 
ing?" 

"Say,  yeou  fellers  make  me  tired,  b'goshl"  burst 
forth  Ephraim.  "I  rather  guess  I've  got  jest  as  big 
appertite  as  any  other  critter  livin',  but  I  don't  growl 
an'  kick  all  ther  time.  It  ain't  goin'  ter  be  forever." 

"You  don'd  know  apout  dot,"  squawked  Hans, 
growing  excited.  "Ven  you  peen  done  dese  race  mit, 
maypie  Vrankie  got  someding  else  indo  you.  Firginia 
peen  a  long  tistance  py  Yale  Goallege.  I  veel  shust  like 
takin'  a  drain  und  valkin'  all  der  vay  to  New  York." 

"Yeou  make  yerselves  miserbul  by  thinkin'  an'  talkin' 
about  it  so  much.  Why  don't  ye  try  ter  f ergit  it  ?" 

"I  don'd  peen  unaple  to  done  dot.  Dot  eadin'  dinks 
apout  me  all  der  dime.  Id  peen  awful  ven  you  felt 
your  packpone  efry  dime  you  put  your  handt  mein 
stomach  on." 

The  Dutch  boy  finished  with  a  lugubrious  groan, 
which  was  faintly  echoed  by  Bruce,  while  Ephraim 
went  away  laughing. 

Each  day  Dunnerwust  seemed  to  grow  more  wild- 
eyed  and  desperate.  Frank  had  given  strict  orders  at 
the  hotel,  so  it  was  impossible  for  any  of  his  crew  to 
get  food  between  meals,  and  only  certain  kinds  of  food 
could  be  found  on  the  table  at  regular  meals. 

Hans  became  so  ravenous  that  he  was  seen  to  stand 
glaring  at  a  cow  for  an  hour  at  a  time,  his  mouth  water- 
ing as  he  tried  to  estimate  how  many  steaks  could  be 
obtained  from  her;  and  he  often  went  across  the  Cove 


154  The  Eight-oar  Shell. 

to  the  house  of  a  settler  who  kept  pigs.  When  asked 
why  he  stood  staring  at  the  pigs  so  much,  he  answered : 

"I  peen  tried  to  vigger  oudt  how  much  bork  und 
peans  dose  bigs  vould  made  uf  dey  peen  gooked  dot  vay. 
I  veel  shust  like  one  uf  dose  bigs  could  ead  der  whole 
uf  me.  Id  vos  dreatful  ven  you  haf  dot  gone  veeling 
py  der  mittle  my  stomach  uf.  Dunder  und  blitzens !  uf 
I  don'd  got  nottings  to  ead  britty  soon,  you  vill  starf 
to  death !" 

The  owner  of  the  pigs  became  suspicious  of  the 
Dutch  lad,  and  fearing  Hans  would  try  to  steal  one  of 
the  animals,  he  drove  him  away. 

Three  days  before  the  time  set  for  the  great  race, 
there  was  a  "hop"  at  the  little  hotel.  The  dining-room 
floor  had  been  cleared  and  polished,  and  an  orchestra 
of  musicians  formed  from  the  musical  lads  of  Blue 
Cove  Academy. 

It  was  a  happy  night  for  Blue  Cove.  All  the  young 
folks  stopping  in  the  vicinity  assembled  at  the  hotel,  and 
when  the  music  struck  up,  the  floor  quickly  swarmed 
with  smiling  lads  and  pretty  lassies. 

Elsie  Bellwood  was  there,  and  of  course  Frank 
claimed  her  for  the  first  waltz.  As  they  glided  over  the 
floor  to  the  soothing  strains  of  music,  Elsie  felt  that 
were  she  to  live  thousands  of  years,  never  could  she  be 
happier  than  she  was  at  that  moment.  Frank's  strong 
arm  was  about  her,  her  hand  was  in  his,  and  she  gave 
herself  up  to  his  guiding  will  on  the  floor,  as  she  had 
sometimes  dreamed  of  giving  herself  up  to  be  guided  by 
him  through  life. 

Never  had  Elsie  waltzed  so  well  before,  and  never 


The  Eight-oar  Shell.  155 

had  Frank  waltzed  better,  so  it  was  not  strange  that 
they  attracted  attention  and  were  universally  admired. 

Next  to  Frank  and  Elsie,  the  most  graceful  dancers 
on  the  floor  were  Bart  Hodge  and  his  partner,  the  pretty 
girl  whom  Anson  Addison  so  much  admired. 

Addison  had  claimed  the  first  waltz  with  her,  and 
great  was  his  rage  when  Hodge  appeared  and  reminded 
her  that  she  had  promised  him  that  dance.  As  they 
whirled  away,  leaving  Addison  standing  alone,  the  lat- 
ter ground  his  teeth  and  vowed  vengeance. 

When  the  dance  was  over,  Addison  found  an  oppor- 
tunity to  speak  to  Hodge. 

"Come  out,"  he  said ;  "come  out  alone  and  fight  me— 
if  you  dare !" 

"I'll  do  it — with  pleasure,"  nodded  Hodge,  promptly. 
"Lead  the  way." 

Then  he  followed  at  Addi son's  heels. 

Kent  Spencer  had  heard  Addison  muttering  threats, 
and  he  was  watching  the  fellow.  When  he  saw  him 
speak  to  Bart,  the  manner  of  the  two  lads  was  enough 
to  betray  what  was  coming,  so  Spencer  hastened  to  find 
Diamond. 

"Come  on!"  he  excitedly  whispered.  "There's  a 
scrap  in  the  air!" 

That  was  enough  for  Jack.  If  a  fight  was  going  to 
take  place,  he  wanted  to  see  it;  if  it  was  possible,  he 
would  wish  to  take  a  hand  in  it 

"-Go  ahead,"  he  said ;  "I'm  after  you." 

When  they  reached  the  outer  air,  they  saw  two  fig- 
ures moving  away  in  the  direction  of  the  academy 
ground,  one  following  the  other. 


156  The  Eight-oar  Shell. 

"They  are  going  to  fight  over  on  the  ball  ground," 
said  Spencer.  "Come  ahead,  and  we'll  get  there  an- 
other way." 

Jack  followed,  and  they  made  a  half  circle,  coming 
around  to  the  ground  on  the  side  opposite  the  hotel. 

By  the  time  they  arrived  there,  Hodge  and  Addison 
were  hard  at  it,  having  stripped  off  their  coats  and 
vests.  They  were  striking,  grappling,  struggling,  fall- 
ing, getting  up,  breaking  away  and  going  at  it  again. 
Spencer  and  Diamond  heard  the  sound  of  their  blows 
and  panting  breaths  before  the  fighting  lads  were  seen. 

"Let's  keep  away,"  said  Diamond.  "I'll  risk  Hodge. 
I  haven't  known  him  long,  but  he  strikes  me  as  a 
terror." 

The  fight  lasted  some  time,  and  it  was  fast  and  furi- 
ous. At  last,  it  was  seen  that  Hodge  was  getting  the 
best  of  it.  He  would  not  take  a  mean  advantage  of  his 
enemy,  but  he  pressed  Addison,  who  began  to  weaken. 
Bart  got  in  some  heavy  blows,  occasionally  knocking 
Addison  off  his  feet. 

"Will  you  give  up?"  he  demanded.  "I  don't  want  to 
use  you  too  rough.  Give  up,  old  fellow — give  up !" 

Addison  made  a  last  spurt  of  rage,  but  he  was 
knocked  down,  and  Hodge  stood  over  him,  ready  to 
thump  him  again  if  he  tried  to  rise. 

"Will  you  give  up  now?"  Bart  demanded. 

"Yes,"  came  the  reluctant  reply.  "Don't  strike  me 
again !  You  are  too  much  for  me." 

"That  settles  it.     Get  up  and  we'll  shake  hands." 

But  Addison  refused  to  shake  hands  after  he  got 
upon  his  feet. 


The  Eight-oar  Shell.  157 

"You  have  won  the  fight,"  he  confessed,  wiping  the 
blood  from  his  face  with  a  handkerchief,  "but  I  hate 
you  just  as  much  as  I  did  before.  I  won't  shake  hands 
with  anybody  I  hate." 

"I  don't  blame  you  a  bit,"  said  Bart,  at  once.  "I 
wouldn't  do  it  if  I  were  in  your  place ;  but  I  don't  hold 
any  hard  feelings,  though,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  might  if 
you  had  licked  me.  I'm  going  to  my  room,  and  see  if 
I  can  get  myself  in  shape  to  dance  again.  So  long." 

Then,  tossing  on  his  coat  and  vest,  he  sauntered  away 
toward  the  hotel,  leaving  the  defeated  Blue  Cove  lad  on 
the  ball  ground. 

Addison  put  on  his  coat,  muttering  to  himself : 

"Oh,  I  hate  all  of  that  Yale  crowd !  I  can't  wait  any 
longer !  I  don't  believe  they'll  have  time  to  get  another 
boat  before  the  race.  I'll  do  the  job  now !" 

As  he  started  away,  Diamond  whispered  to  Spencer : 

"That  fellow  is  up  to  something  crooked.  Let's 
watch  him." 

"All  right,"  nodded  Kent. 

They  followed  Addison,  and  saw  him  go  down  back 
of  the  boathouse,  where  he  stripped  off  all  his  clothing 
and  prepared  to  go  into  the  water. 

"I  think  I  know  what  he  is  up  to,"  declared  Kent. 
"Come  with  me." 

Taking  care  not  to  be  seen  by  Addison,  the  two  boys 
made  their  way  to  the  door  of  the  boathouse,  where 
Spencer  produced  a  key  and  hastily  admitted  them,  clos- 
ing the  door  cautiously  when  they  were  inside. 


158  The  Eight-oar  Shell. 

"Here,"  whispered  the  Blue  Cove  stroke,  "we'll  hide 
in  this  corner.  If  I  am  right,  Addison  is  coming  in 
here  for  something." 

They  crouched  in  a  corner  and  waited.  Before  long 
there  was  a  splash  of  water  in  the  slip  and  a  blowing 
sound,  as  if  a  diver  had  just  come  to  the  surface. 

With  his  lips  close  to  Diamond's  ear,  Spencer  gently 
whispered : 

"Just  as  I  thought !  He  dived  from  the  outside  and 
came  under  the  door,  which  is  closed." 

Then  the  intruder  was  heard  pulling  himself  out  of 
the  water,  and  the  eyes  of  the  crouching  lads,  having 
become  accustomed  to  the  darkness  of  the  place,  saw  a 
form  moving  about. 

Addison  went  into  the  clubroom,  soon  returning. 
Then  he  struck  a  match  and  lighted  a  lamp. 

"There  are  no  windows  in  this  part,"  he  muttered. 
"The  light  won't  be  seen." 

The  light  shone  on  his  wet  and  dripping  body.  The 
watching  boys,  hushing  their  breaching,  for  fear  they 
would  be  detected,  watched  his  every  movement. 

"There's  the  boat,"  Addison  grated,  glaring  at  the 
handsome  new  shell  of  the  visitors.  "I'll  soon  spoil  its 
beauty !" 

Then  he  went  to  the  wall  and  took  down  from  some 
brackets  an  ax,  with  which  he  approached  the  boat. 
There  was  a  glare  in  his  eyes,  and  his  pale  face  was  con- 
torted with  rage. 

"Now!"  he  cried;  "now  I'll  do  the  job!" 


The  Eight-oar  Shell.  159 

He  raised  the  ax. 

"Stop!" 

Out  leaped  Spencer  and  Diamond,  and  the  ax  wa? 
torn  from  Addison's  hand  before  he  could  carry  out 
his  dastardly  design. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  RACE. 

The  race  was  on  at  last.  At  the  crack  of  the  pistol, 
the  three  boats  had  jumped  away,  Alexandria  taking  a 
lead  of  half  a  length  by  a  quick  start.  The  course  was 
straightaway  down  the  river,  but  against  the  tide. 

A  large  crowd  had  assembled  near  the  start  and  the 
finish  to  watch  the  race.  Those  at  the  starting  point 
cheered  wildly  as  the  boats  shot  away. 

Alexandria  rowed  with  short,  snappy  strokes  that 
made  the  boat  jump,  jump,  jump  all  the  time.  The 
strokes  of  the  Blue  Cove  crew  and  the  Yale  Combine 
were  much  alike. 

Toots  was  coxswain  in  the  Yale  boat,  and  proud 
indeed  he  was  of  the  position.  His  black  face  shone 
with  delight. 

On  the  river  was  a  small  steam  launch  that  was 
loaded  with  admirers  of  the  Alexandria  crew.  They 
waved  hand  and  hats  and  shouted  like  a  lot  of  wild 
Indians  when  they  saw  the  Alexandria  boat  increase 
its  lead  so  that  clear  water  could  be  seen  between  it 
and  the  other  boats. 

With  a  regular,  long  swinging  stroke,  the  other 
boats  kept  side  by  side  for  a  time.  Then  Frank's  crew 
began  to  gain  slightly  on  the  Blue  Cove  lads. 

Steadily  Merriwell  drove  them  on.  He  did  not 
attempt  a  stiff  spurt  so  soon,  but  forced  them  grradu- 


The  Race.  161 

ally,  drawing  away  from  Blue  Cove.  Soon  the  Yale 
boat  was  close  behind  that  of  Alexandria.  The  latter 
spurted,  and  then  it  was  that  Frank  held  close,  like  a 
leech,  determined  not  to  permit  the  crew  from  up  the 
river  any  further  advantage. 

The  stroke  of  the  Yale  crew  was  strong  and  steady, 
sending  the  boat  through  the  water  at  high  speed.  Be- 
fore a  mile  had  been  made  the  short  stroke  of  the 
Alexandria  men  was  beginning  to  tell  on  them. 

And  Blue  Cove  was  clinging  in  a  remarkable  man- 
ner, for  all  of  the  fact  that  it  had  lost  one  of  its  best 
men  at  the  last  moment.  Anson  Addison,  caught  in 
the  dastardly  attempt  to  ruin  Merriwell's  boat,  had 
been  dropped  from  the  crew  and  expelled  from  the 
club. 

In  vain  Spencer  had  urged  Noel  Spudd  to  take  Ad- 
dison's  place  in  the  boat.  Spudd  longed  to  do  so,  but 
did  not  dare  disobey  his  father  to  such  an  extent. 

So  another  and  far  less  valuable  man  was  substi- 
tuted, and  Blue  Cove  felt  that  it  had  very  little  show  of 
winning  the  race. 

"You  must  save  us,  Merriwell,"  said  Kent  Spencer, 
a  few  moments  before  the  start  was  made, 

"I  am  sure  we'll  do  our  best,"  nodded  Frank. 

The  shouts  of  the  Alexandria  crowd  on  the  launch 
became  less  and  less  confident  as  the  Yale  boat  was 
seen  to  creep  up  on  the  leader.  At  last  it  lapped  Alex- 
andria. Then,  despite  the  most  desperate  efforts  of 
the  crew  from  up  the  river,  the  Yale  boat  crept  along- 
side and  gradually  took  the  lead. 

On  an  elevated  bank  near  the  finishing:  point  a  crowd 


1 62  The  Race. 

was  seen.  The  ones  assembled  there  were  all  aflutter 
with  excitement. 

Blue  Cove  was  doing  good  work.  Up  beside  Alex- 
andria the  boat  was  stealing,  and  it  was  plain  that  a 
most  exciting  finish  would  be  made. 

The  cheering  on  the  launch  had  ceased.  It  was 
keeping  near  the  Yale  boat,  and,  in  the  midst  of  his 
work,  Frank  heard  a  familiar  voice  declaring: 

"They  can't  win  to-day — not  much!  The  race  is 
not  over  yet !" 

Harlow  was  on  the  launch. 

But  it  seemed  plain  enough  to  everybody  that  the 
Yale  boat  would  cross  the  finish  more  than  two  lengths 
ahead  of  the  others,  for  it  was  gaining  rapidly  now. 

The  crowd  on  shore  was  cheering,  and  it  was  a 
scene  of  wild  excitement. 

Suddenly  something  whizzed  through  the  air  and 
struck  the  water.  Then  there  was  an  explosion,  and 
the  entire  forward  end  of  the  Yale  boat  was  blown 
to  pieces! 

The  boat  filled  immediately,  and  the  crew  was  in  the 
water,  while  the  other  boats  shot  past  and  crossed  the 
line  together,  it  being  difficult  to  tell  which  was 
leading. 


"One  of  the  greatest  races  ever  rowed  on  the  river," 
declared  Kent  Spencer  in  the  boathouse  that  evening. 
"You  Yale  chaps  would  have  won  easily  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  that  bomb  that  ruined  your  boat.  As  it  was, 
that  put  you  out  of  the  race,  and  we  got  over  the  finish 


The  Race.  163 

a  little  in  advance  of  Alexandria.  Blue  Cove  still  holds 
the  championship." 

"Hurrah!  hurrah!  hurrah!"  shouted  the  delighted 
lads. 

"It's  lucky  there  were  boats  ready  to  give  us  a 
lift,"  said  Jack  Diamond.  "Hans  was  floundering 
about  like  a  maniac,  and " 

"Who  told  me  so?"  cried  the  Dutch  boy.  "Dot 
Bodomac  Rifer  vater  vos  der  thinnest  sduff  dot  efer 
tried  to  valk  on  me.  Id  don'd  seem  unaple  to  subbort 
me  ven  I  tried  to  svim  oudt  der  shore  to.  I  sunk  der 
pottom  to  shust  like  you  vos  von  sdick  uf  vood." 

"Where  is  Browning?"  asked  Fred  Dobbs. 

"Oh,  he's  in  the  hotel,  having  a  chill,"  laughed  Rat- 
tleton.  "The  plunge  in  the  river  brought  on  the  ague 
again." 

"I  don't  suppose  there  is  any  doubt  as  to  the  identity 
of  the  fellow  who  threw  the  bumb  ?"  said  Noel  Spudd, 
questioningly. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!"  exclaimed  Bart  Hodge.  "Miss 
Bellwood  and  Miss  Spencer  both  saw  him  when  he  did 
the  trick.  He  was  on  the  steam  launch.  Miss  Bell- 
wood  was  looking  at  him  through  field  glasses,  and 
she  is  ready  to  swear  it  was  Rolf  Harlow." 

"In  that  case,"  said  Spudd,  "I  presume  Mr.  Merri- 
well  will  see  that  the  fellow  is  punished,  if  he  is  ar- 
rested ?" 

"Bet  your  life  on  it!"  cried  Diamond.  "Merry 
means  to  put  Harlow  where  the  birds  won't  peck  him. 
That  chap  has  given  Merry  trouble  enough." 

"Anyway,"  said  Kent  Spencer,  "we  want  you  fel- 


1 64  The  Race. 

lows  to  stay  at  Blue  Cove  a  while  longer.  We've  had 
more  sport  since  you  struck  the  Cove  than  ever  be- 
fore." 

"Had  to  glear  it — I  mean  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Rat- 
tleton.  "But  you  haven't  had  any  more  sport  than 
we  have.  It's  been  the  j oiliest  time  of  the  whole  trip 
for  me,  and  as  for  Merriwell,  Diamond  and  Hodge — • 
well,  there  are  attractions  enough  to  keep  them  here 
the  rest  of  their  lives." 

"The  only  gal  I  ever  was  able  to  ketch  was  away 
aout  in  Forth  Wuth,  Texis,"  put  in  Ephraim,  grin- 
ning. "I  kainder  knocked  the  spots  aout  of  a  feller 
that  was  cuffin'  her  brother  some,  an'  she  stuck  to  me 
zif  I  was  kivered  all  over  with  mewsledge.  She  was 
a  peach,  too,  b'jee!  Some  time  I'm  goin'  back  aout 
there  an'  ax  her  will  she  splice  to  me.  Ef  she'll  have 
me,  I'll  have  her  quicker'n  a  cat  kin  wink  her  eye." 

"Vale,"  said  Hans,  with  unusual  sadness,  "I  don't 
peen  aple  to  had  a  girl  catch  me.  Vot  vos  der  madder, 
somehow?  Don'd  I  peen  peautiful  py  my  faces?" 

"Oh,  yes!"  cried  Rattleton;  "you  are  a  perfect 
chromo !  I  don't  understand  why  all  the  girls  are  not 
trying  to  catch  you." 

"Mebbe  you  understood  dot  shust  as  pad  as  I  did.  I 
sed  ub  nighds  dryin'  to  haf  dot  vigger  me  out  vot  id 
vos,  but  now  I  don'd  knew  so  much  apoud  id  a?  vou 
did  pefore." 

Frank  Merriwell  came  bounding  into  the  room,  wav- 
ing a  scrap  of  yellow  paper  over  his  head. 

"A  dispatch!"  he  cried.     "It  was  just  brought  me 


The  Race.  165 

from  the  nearest  station.  Harlow  has  been  arrested 
in  Alexandria!" 

"Hurrah!  hurrah!"  shouted  the  boys. 

"Will  you  appear  against  him?"  asked  Harry  of 
Frank. 

"I  think  I  ought  to." 

"Certainly,"  came  from  several  of  the  Blue  Cove 
boys. 

The  matter  was  talked  over  for  half  an  hour,  and 
then  Frank  set  off  for  the  jail  in  which  Harlow  had 
been  confined. 

On  the  day  following  the  rascal  was  brought  out 
for  a  hearing. 

He  was  held  for  trial  and  bail  was  placed  at  several 
thousand  dollars. 

As  he  could  find  nobody  to  go  his  bondsman  he  was 
compelled  to  remain  in  jail  for  the  time  being. 

The  boys  of  the  Yale  Combine  remained  with  their 
friends  for  two  days  more.  During  that  time  Frank 
saw  Elsie  twice,  and  when  the  pair  parted  it  was  with 
a  promise  to  write  every  week  or  oftener. 

The  combine  got  a  rousing  cheer  on  leaving  Blue 
Cove,  the  celebration  being  fully  equal  to  that  par- 
ticipated in  at  Lake  Lily. 

"Virginia  is  all  right,"  said  Frank  to  Jack.  "I 
don't  wonder  that  you  are  proud  of  your  mother 
State." 

The  tour  now  led  northward,  toward  New  York, 
and  two  days  later  found  the  boys  in  the  southeastern 
portion  of  Pennsylvania. 

Here  the  roads  were  found  to  be  fairly  erood,  and 


1 66  The  Race. 

they  took  again  to  their  bicycles,  but  taking  their  time, 
for  Bruce  and  Hans  absolutely  refused  to  hurry. 

"The  boat  race  nearly  killed  me,"  growled  the  big 
fellow.  "Give  me  a  chance  to  recover." 

As  for  Hans,  he  wanted  to  stop  and  eat  five  or  six 
times  in  every  twenty-four  hours. 

"Dot  draining  vos  make  me  empty  by  mine  heels 
up,"  he  declared.  "You  could  eat  me  mine  own  head 
off  alretty,  ain't  it?" 

On  one  occasion  Frank  felt  like  spurting  ahead  and 
did  so.  He  was  quickly  joined  by  Barney,  and  the 
two  kept  it  up  until  they  were  well  out  of  sight  of  the 
rest  of  the  crowd. 

"Sure  an'  this  tickles  me  to  death,"  observed  Barney. 
"Me  wheel  acts  loike  grased  lightning,  bedad!" 

"I  love  a  spurt  myself,"  replied  Frank.  "Especially 
when  my  wheel  is  just  in  proper  trim." 

They  had  passed  over  a  slight  rise  and  were  now  on 
a  down  grade  where  coasting  became  a  double  pleasure. 
There  was  a  wood  on  either  side  of  the  road,  with 
great  trees  interlocking  their  "branches  high  overhead. 

"Listen!"  cried  Frank,  presently.     "What  is  that?" 

"Sure  an'  somebody  is  gettin'  a  drubbin',"  replied 
Barney.  "Come  on,  we'll  see  who  it  is !" 

"Confound  the  beast!"  came  the  cry  from  a  curve 
ahead.  "I  will  teach  the  beast  how  to  mind!" 

And  then  followed  more  blows,  mingled  with  a  low 
cry  in  a  female  voice. 

Rounding  the  curve,  Frank  and  Barney  saw  a  man 
and  a  girl  who  were  mounted  on  handsome  horses. 


The  Race.  167 

The  man  was  belaboring  with  his  riding-  whip  the 
horse  he  bestrode,  while  the  animal  danced  about,  re- 
fusing to  go  ahead. 

At  every  blow  of  the  whip  the  horse  under  the  girl 
started  in  fear,  trembling  and  snorting.  She  was 
obliged  to  give  him  much  of  her  attention,  but  she 
sharply  called  to  the  man : 

"Don't  whip  Firefoot  that  way,  Cousin  Stephen! 
He  is  not  used  to  your  harsh  ways,  and " 

"I'll  make  him  used  to  them!"  grated  the  man,  his 
face  flushed  with  anger.  "He  is  a  miserable  brute 
anyway !" 

"But  not  half  such  a  brute  as  the  man  on  his  back !" 
muttered  Frank. 

"Roight  ye  are,  me  b'y,"  agreed  Barney.  "It's  a 
foine  lookin'  crayther  he's  batin'  there." 

"And  a  fine  creature  it  is,"  declared  Frank; 
"but  it  will  not  take  long  to  spoil  it  in  that  way.  The 
fellow  doesn't  know  how  to  ride,  and  he  has  confused 
the  horse  between  yanking  and  whipping  it.  It's  likely 
the  creature  stopped  and  began  to  rear  and  back  be- 
cause it  did  not  know  what  its  rider  wanted." 

The  sight  of  the  approaching  bicycles  seemed  to 
startle  the  horse  more  than  ever,  and  it  bolted  out  of 
the  road  with  its  rider,  who  was  nearly  swept  from 
the  saddle  by  an  overhanging  limb. 

Again  the  man  fiercely  applied  the  whip.  Then  he, 
too,  saw  the  bicyclists,  and  cried  to  them  in  a  snarling 
voice : 

"What  do  you  mean  by  riding  along  here  like  this? 


1 68  The  Race. 

You  chaps  have  no  right  in  the  road,  anyway!  Can't 
you  see  you  have  frightened  this  horse  ?" 

That  brought  a  touch  of  warm  color  to  the  hand- 
some face  of  our  hero,  but  his  voice  was  calm  and 
steady  as  he  retorted : 

"We  have  as  much  right  on  the  public  highway  as 
you.  The  trouble  with  your  horse  is  that  you  have 
abused  and  frightened  it.  You  are  not  a  fit  person  to 
ride  a  horse  or  have  any  dealings  with  one." 

That  seemed  to  make  the  man  more  frantic  than 
ever.  He  tried  to  force  the  horse  at  Frank,  but  the 
creature  shyed  at  the  wheel,  so  the  rider  did  not  ac- 
complish his  design  of  riding  Merriwell  down. 

With  a  muttered  cry  of  anger,  the  man  struck  at 
Frank  with  his  whip,  and  the  lash  fell  upon  the  boy's 
shoulder,  so  that  he  felt  the  sting  through  his  coat. 

Then  of  a  sudden,  away  leaped  the  horse,  nearly  un- 
seating its  rider.  The  girl  followed. 

"Confound  him,"  muttered  Merriwell,  watching  the 
retreating  figure  of  the  horseman. 

"May  th'  Ould  Nick  floy  away  wid  him !"  cried  Bar- 
ney. "Did  he  hurrut  yez,  Frankie?" 

"No.  If  he  had,  I  might  be  tempted  to  follow  him. 
Let  him  go.  It  is  plain  he  thinks  he  is  a  blue  blood 
and  owns  the  earth.  What  he  really  needs  is  a  sound 
thrashing." 

"An*  ye're  th'  b'y  to  give  him  thot,  Frankie!" 

"I  want  no  quarrel  with  him,  though  it" did  make 
me  hot  to  see  him  lash  that  horse.  Look  at  him  now ! 
See  him  bob  in  the  saddle  and  saw  at  the  reins!  He 


The  Race.  169 

will  ruin  the  mouth  of  that  horse,  as  well  as  spoil  its 
temper.  It's  a  shame!" 

"So  it  is!"  nodded  Barney. 

The  man  and  girl  disappeared  from  view,  and  grad- 
ually the  sound  of  the  galloping  horses  died  out  in  the 
distance. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  RESCUE  ON   THE   ROAD. 

Frank  and  Barney  rode  along  leisurely. 

"The  mouth  of  a  horse,  until  it  is  spoiled  by  bad 
usage,  is  a  very  delicate  thing,"  declared  Frank.  "As 
a  common  thing  the  mouth  of  a  horse  is  ruined  before 
the  creature  is  seven  years  old.  In  order  to  preserve 
its  natural  delicacy,  the  right  sort  of  a  bit  must  be 
used  and  the  reins  must  be  handled  gingerly.  A 
heavy  hand  will  ruin  a  good  mouth  in  a  short  time, 
but  not  one  man  in  fifty  can  drive  with  a  light  hand. 
The  man  who  saws  on  the  reins  has  no  business  in  the 
saddle.  If  I  owned  that  black  horse  it  would  take  the 
price  of  the  animal  to  induce  me  to  let  such  a  rider 
mount  him  for  a  ten-mile  canter." 

"But  whin  a  crayther  runs  away,  thin  phwat're  yez 
goin'  to  do?"  asked  the  Irish  lad.  "Ye've  got  ter 
yank  him  up,  me  b'y." 

"Not  at  all,  Barney.  Yanking  and  sawing  are 
vile  practices." 

"Thin  how  do  yez  be  afther  holdin'  the  b'aste?" 

"There  is  a  trick  in  holding  a  horse  with  a  light 
hand.  Proof  of  this  is  that  some  of  the  most  famous 
jockeys,  although  slight  and  weak,  can  control  and 
hold  horses  which  would  run  away  with  strong  men, 
and  could  not  be  sawed  or  yanked  into  submission. 


A  Rescue  on  the  Road.  171 

The  best  jockeys  are  never  seen  leaning  back  in  the 
saddle,  pulling  and  sawing  to  hold  their  horses." 

"Oi  belave  it's  roight  ye  are,  me  b'y,"  nodded  the 
Irish  youth,  after  a  moment,  "although  Oi  niver 
thought  av  it  before." 

"Take  notice  of  it  on  race  tracks  hereafter.  Horses 
are  apt  to  behave  better  with  women,  if  they  are  skill- 
ful, for  women  commonly  have  lighter  hands  than 
men.  That  fellow  did  not  know  how  to  ride,  for  all 
that  the  horse  did  not  throw  him  when  it  jumped  side- 
ways or  started  ahead.  It's  ten  to  one  he  thinks  him- 
self an  expert  rider,  but  he  is  a  bungler,  for,  besides 
having  a  bad  hand,  he  did  not  sit  well  in  the  saddle. 
When  the  horse  started  suddenly  he  was  forced  to  sup- 
port himself  somewhat  by  a  hard  pull  on  the  reins,  a 
thing  that  never  should  be  done.  A  good  rider  has  a 
seat  low  in  the  saddle,  which  he  grips  with  his  knees 
and  thighs,  keeps  his  back  straight,  keeps  his  elbows 
and  hands  down,  and  varies  the  force  on  the  reins  only 
for  the  purpose  of  controlling  his  horse,  and  not  for 
steadying  himself." 

Barney  gave  Frank  a  glance  of  wonder.  He  saw 
that  Merriwell  was  warming  to  his  subject  and  grow- 
ing enthusiastic. 

"Oi  don't  understhand  it!"  muttered  the  son  of  the 
Emerald  Isle. 

Frank  gave  him  a  quick  glance  of  surprise. 

"Don't  understand  what?"  he  asked.  "I  thought  I 
was  talking  plain  enough." 

"Ye  wur,  me  b'y — ye  wur!  It's  how  ye  know  so 
much  about  iverything  thot  puzzles  Barney  Mulloy.  If 


172  A  Rescue  on  the  Road. 

there's  iver  a  thing  ye're  not  posted  on  Oi  dunno 
pwhat  it  is.  Ye  can  talk  about  iverything,  an'  ye  can 
tell  me  more  in  a  minute  thin  Oi  iver  knew.  How  do 
ye  foind  it  all  out,  Frankie?" 

Frank  laughed. 

"I'll  tell  you,  Barney,"  he  said.  "Some  years  ago 
I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  couldn't  know  too  much, 
and  I  resolved  to  find  out  all  about  everything  that 
came  beneath  my  notice.  Since  then  I  have  practiced 
the  art  of  observation  and  investigation.  That  is  the 
way  I  have  found  out  about  things.  It  is  one  way  of 
obtaining  an  education.  Lots  of  fellows  are  not  able 
to  go  to  college,  but  they  can  keep  their  eyes  and  ears 
open  and  lay  up  a  store  of  practical  knowledge  that 
will  be  of  the  greatest  use  to  them  in  all  probability. 
Of  course  many  of  the  things  I  have  investigated  and 
found  out  about  may  not  be  of  value  to  me  at  any  time 
during  my  life ;  but  there  is  no  telling  what  will  be  of 
value  and  what  will  not.  All  my  life  I  have  taken  an 
interest  in  horses,  and  it  is  but  natural  that  I  should 
find  out  as  much  as  possible  concerning  them.  If  this 
had  not  been  the  case,  I  could  not  have  astonished  the 
cowboys  by  my  horsemanship  during  this  trip.  They 
regarded  me  as  the  most  remarkable  tenderfoot  they 
had  ever  seen,  and  it  all  came  from  the  fact  that  I  had 
found  and  improved  an  opportunity  to  ride,  shoot  and 
throw  the  lasso.  I  didn't  learn  those  things  without 
some  trouble,  but  trouble  doesn't  cut  any  ice  with  me 
when  I  set  out  to  do  a  thing." 

"Well,  it's  not  ivery  fellow  can  put  hissilf  out  to 
learn  all  about  th'  things  he  says." 


A  Rescue  on  the  Road.  173 

"He  can  if  he  will.  The  trouble  is  that  he  sees 
things  without  thinking1  of  learning  anything  about 
them.  If  he  begins  to  cultivate  the  habit  of  investiga- 
tion it  will  grow  on  him,  and  it  will  not  be  long  before 
he  will  discover  the  value  of  some  of  the  knowledge 
thus  obtained.  Try  it,  Barney." 

"Begobs,  Oi  will!  Oi  niver  thought  av  it  before, 
but  it's  mesilf  thot'll  be  after  trying  it.  Did  yez  no- 
tice th'  girrul  wid  thot  horse-bater,  Frankie?" 

"Yes.     Rather  pretty,  I  thought." 

"It's  a  p'ache  she  wur,  me  b'y !"  enthusiastically  de- 
clared the  Irish  lad.  "It's  not  plazed  she  wur  wid  th' 
way  th'  spalpane  wur  b'atin'  th'  poor  b'aste." 

They  came  out  of  the  wood  to  the  open  country,  and 
a  beautiful  stretch  of  country  lay  before  them. 

Of  a  sudden,  Barney  gave  an  exclamation: 

"Look  there,  Frankie!"  he  cried,  pointing. 

Along  the  road  from  a  distance,  coming  toward 
them  at  a  mad  and  furious  gallop,  was  a  horse,  bearing 
a  girl,  who  was  vainly  trying  to  hold  the  frightened 
animal. 

In  pursuit  of  the  runaway  was  a  man  who  was 
fiercely  lashing  another  horse,  and  Frank  recognized 
this  animal  even  before  he  did  the  rider. 

It  was  the  handsome  black  horse  that  the  stranger 
had  been  maltreating  in  the  wood,  and  its  rider  was 
the  same  hot-tempered  young  man. 

The  girl  on  the  runaway  was  his  companion. 

Instantly  Frank  seemed  to  understand  what  had  hap- 
pened. 

"The  fool !"  burst  from  his  lips.     "He  has  kept  at 


174  A  Rescue  on  the  Road. 

his  own  horse  till  the  one  the  girl  is  riding  has  been 
frightened  and  is  running  away  with  her.  She  may 
be  thrown  and  killed!" 

Without  loss  of  time,  Frank  turned  about,  so  he 
was  heading  in  the  same  direction  as  the  runaway 
horse,  which  was  coming  behind  him. 

"Pwhat  are  yez  goin'  to  do?"  cried  Barney 

"I  am  going  to  stop  that  runaway  horse  if  I  am 
built  right !"  returned  Frank,  with  grim  determination. 

"Look  out— look  out,  there!" 

The  man  in  pursuit  of  the  runaway  shouted  to  the 
boys. 

Barney  was  not  given  time  to  turn  about.  He  tried 
to  do  so,  but  in  his  haste  and  confusion,  ran  out  of  the 
road  into  the  ditch,  and  was  forced  to  dismount.  Be- 
fore he  could  get  into  the  saddle  again  the  frightened 
horse  was  bearing  the  girl  past. 

The  Irish  boy  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  face,  from 
which  the  warm  color  had  fled.  Her  lips  were  pressed 
firmly  together,  and  there  was  a  look  of  fear  in  her 
dark  eyes;  but  she  was  doing  her  very  best  to  check 
the  frightened  horse,  although  the  animal  had  the  bit 
in  his  teeth,  and  her  gloved  hands  seemed  unable  to 
do  but  little  to  restrain  him. 

A  thought  of  Frank's  theories  concerning  a  "light 
hand"  for  driving  flashed  through  Barney's  head,  but 
he  instantly  realized  that  this  was  an  exceptional  oc- 
casion. Even  brute  strength  might  not  avail  now. 

Then  how  did  Merry  expect  to  check  the  runaway? 

The  Irish  youth  saw  his  friend,  who  was  pedaling 
swiftly  along  the  road,  glance  over  his  shoulder  at  the 


A  Rescue  on  the  Road.  175 

approaching  runaway.  Then  Barney  held  his  breath, 
wondering  what  Frank  would  do,  but  feeling  that  he 
was  bound  to  make  some  desperate  attempt  to  stop  the 
horse, 

Frank  was  pedaling  along  at  high  speed  when  the 
runaway  reached  his  side.  He  swerved  toward  the 
horse,  crying  to  the  girl: 

"Hold  fast,  if  he  swings  sideways  suddenly!  Don't 
let  him  pitch  you  out  of  the  saddle." 

She  nodded  that  she  understood.  She  realized  that 
this  daring  young  cyclist  was  going  to  try  to  check 
the  horse, 

Frank  was  close  to  the  animal's  head,  and  then  Bar- 
ney saw  him  reach  out  swiftly  and  grasp  the  bit.  A 
moment  later  Merriwell  was  torn  from  the  saddle  and 
carried  along,  dangling  at  the  head  of  the  runaway. 

"Hurro!"  shouted  Barney.  "It's  just  loike  th'  b'y! 
It's  niver  a  bit  is  he  afraid  av  anything  at  all,  at  all !" 

With  a  death  grip,  Frank  clung  to  the  bit,  knowing 
he  might  receive  fatal  injuries  beneath  the  feet  of  the 
horse  if  his  hold  was  broken.  With  his  other  hand  he 
reached  up  and  obtained  a  hold.  He  lifted  his  feet  so 
they  did  not  touch  the  ground,  and,  within  three  sec- 
onds, the  speed  of  the  runaway  slackened. 

Then,  still  clinging,  Frank  talked  to  the  horse  softly, 
soothingly,  reassuringly.  His  words  were  snatched 
out  sometimes,  sometimes  broken,  but  there  was  noth- 
ing in  the  sound  of  his  voice  to  add  to  the  fears  of  the 
frightened  animal.  Instead,  there  was  something  to 
calm  and  quiet  the  frantic  creature. 

"Hold  fast!"  he  again  called  to  the  girl 


176  A  Rescue  on  the  Road. 

Then  the  horse  was  turned  from  the  road,  was  swept 
about  in  a  complete  circle,  and  by  the  time  it  again 
faced  in  the  direction  it  had  been  running,  it  was 
brought  to  a  stop. 

"Jump  down  quickly,"  directed  Frank,  as  he  saw  the 
pursuing  man  come  thundering  nearer  and  nearer. 
"This  horse  will  act  bad  when  he  comes  up." 

The  girl  obeyed.  Down  from  the  saddle  she  slipped 
to  the  ground,  losing  no  time  in  getting  away  from  the 
prancing  horse. 

Up  came  the  man,  flushed  of  face  and  shaking  with 
excitement  He  gave  a  yank  at  the  bit  that  fairly 
flung  the  black  gelding  upon  its  haunches,  and  he 
hoarsely  cried: 

"That  confounded  beast  ought  to  be  shot  through 
the  head!" 

At  the  sound  of  the  man's  voice  the  horse  Frank 
was  holding  showed  every  symptom  of  fear,  making  a 
sudden  attempt  to  break  away. 

Merriwell  spoke  soothingly  to  the  creature,  holding 
fast  to  the  bit  with  a  firm,  steady  hand,  and  patting  its 
neck. 

"It's  not  the  horse,"  was  his  thought,  "it's  the  man 
who  ought  to  be  shot !" 

"You  are  not  harmed,  are  you,  Iva?"  somewhat 
anxiously  asked  the  man,  addressing  the  girl. 

"No,"  she  answered,  her  voice  showing  the  least 
trace  of  agitation ;  "thanks  to  the  brave  action  of  this 
young  stranger,  I  am  not." 

At  this  the  horseman  scowled  fiercely  on  Frank. 

"Thanks  to  nothing!"  he  muttered.     "I  should  have 


A  Rescue  on  the  Road.  177 

overtaken  and  stopped  the  skittish  brute.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  these  smart  youngsters  on  their  confounded 
bicycles,  the  horses  would  not  have  been  frightened." 

"I  think  you  are  mistaken  about  that,  sir,"  said 
Frank,  promptly.  "When  we  came  in  sight  of  you 
both  horses  were  frightened,  and  you  were  abusing 
your  own  mount.  I  think  you  are  entirely  responsible 
for  this  runaway,  and,  if  I  were  this  young  lady,  I 
should  be  cautious  about  riding  out  with  you  again." 

"Insolent  puppy,"  grated  the  man.  "How  dare  you 
talk  to  me  like  this!  Why,  I — I've  a  mind  to " 

"I  wouldn't  try  it,  sir!"  came  sharply  from  Merri- 
well,  as  the  fellow  lifted  his  whip.  "You  touched  me 
with  that  back  in  the  woods,  and  I  do  not  care  to 
have  you  repeat  it." 

There  was  something  in  Frank's  manner  that  caused 
the  man  to  lower  the  whip,  boy  in  years  though  it  was 
who  faced  him  so  boldly. 

The  girl  stepped  forward  quickly. 

"Stop,  Cousin  Stephen!"  she  cried.  "This  brave 
young  man  stopped  Rex,  and  it  may  be  that  he  saved 
my  life.  You  should  thank  him  instead  of  quarreling 
with  him." 

"Thank  him  for  nothing!"  growled  the  man.  "It's 
a  wonder  he  didn't  pitch  you  out  of  the  saddle  and 
kill  you  when  he  caught  the  horse  by  the  bit  and 
yanked  its  head  around." 

Barney  came  riding  up,  and  both  horses  pricked  up 
their  ears  and  regarded  the  bicycle  with  signs  of  min- 
gled doubt  and  alarm. 

"Get  off — get  off  from  that,  you  fool!"  cried  the 


178  A  Rescue  on  the  Road. 

man.  "What  do  you  want  to  do — scare  the  blooming 
beasts  into  running  away  again?  Don't  you  know 
anything  ?" 

That  was  enough  to  start  Barney's  temper. 

"Av  ye'll  shtep  down  a  minute,  Oi'll  be  afther  show- 
in*  yez  a  few  things  Oi  know,"  he  flung  back. 

Other  horsemen  were  seen  approaching  swiftly. 
There  were  three  in  the  party,  and  they  headed  straight 
toward  the  little  group  in  the  road. 

"Why,  it  is  father  and  Kenneth !"  exclaimed  the  girl, 
as  she  observed  them.  "And  the  other  is — is  Mr. 
Harden!" 

Something  like  a  curse  came  from  beneath  the  black 
mustache  of  the  man  she  had  called  "cousin."  He 
glared  at  the  approaching  horsemen,  and  Frank  heard 
him  mutter : 

"What  in  Satan's  name  is  Harden  doing  here?  I 
believe  he  saw  the  runaway!  Hang  the  fellow!  he's 
always  around!" 

Up  came  the  horsemen,  with  a  clatter  of  hoofs.  The 
youngest  of  the  party  was  not  older  than  Frank,  and 
he  was  a  fine-looking  youth,  with  dark  eyes  and  curling 
hair.  Next  to  him  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-two  or 
three,  with  a  blond  mustache,  and  the  third  was  a 
man  of  fifty,  with  an  iron-gray  beard. 

The  youngest  of  the  strangers  leaped  from  the  sad- 
dle, and  was  at  the  girl's  side  in  a  moment,  exclaiming : 

"Are  you  all  right,  sister  mine?  You  are  not 
harmed  ?" 

"Not  a  bit!"  she  half  laughed;  "but  there  is  no 
telling  what  might  have  happened  but  for  the  brave 


A  Rescue  on  the  Road.  179 

young  man  there  who  stopped  Rex.  The  horse  had 
the  bit  in  his  teeth,  and  I  could  do  nothing  with  him." 

"We  saw  it — saw  it  all,"  declared  the  youth.  "We 
reached  the  top  of  the  hill  yonder  in  time  to  witness 
his  act,  and  I  must  say  it  was  as  nervy  and  skillful  as 
anything  I  ever  beheld.  Sir" — speaking  to  Frank — 
"I  wish  to  thank  you  for  your  gallant  rescue  of  my 
sister." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and  Frank  accepted  it.  Each 
felt  a  thrill  as  they  crossed  palms,  and  their  eyes  met, 
and  it  seemed  that  a  bond  of  friendship  was  cemented 
between  them. 

"My  name  is  Kenneth  St.  Ives,"  explained  the 
strange  lad. 

"And  mine  is  Frank  Merriwell,"  said  our  hero. 

"Mr.  Merriwell,  I  am  happy  to  know  you,"  de- 
clared Kenneth.  "Permit  me  to  properly  present  my 
sister." 

Smiling,  Frank  lifted  his  cap  and  bowed  gracefully, 
but  the  girl  held  out  her  hand,  her  full  lips  parting  to 
show  her  fine  white  teeth,  as  she  smilingly  said : 

"Let  me  shake  hands,  also,  Mr.  Merriwell.  Pardon 
the  glove." 

On  his  horse,  "Cousin  Stephen"  glared  and  ground 
his  teeth. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AT  SPRINGBROOK   FARM. 

Then  Kenneth  St.  Ives  introduced  his  father  and  Mr. 
Harry  Harden.  To  avoid  an  introduction,  Stephen 
Fenton  had  turned  his  horse  about,  and  was  staring 
sullenly  in  the  opposite  direction. 

"Mr.  Merriwell,"  said  Preston  St.  Ives,  dismount- 
ing to  take  Frank's  hand,  "I  owe  you  much  for  your 
daring  service  to  my  daughter.  I  shall  always  feel 
that  I  am  indebted  to  you." 

Harden  dismounted,  and  talked  with  Iva,  while  Fen- 
ton  glared  at  them  in  a  side-long  manner,  chewing  the 
ends  of  his  black  mustache  and  scowling  fiercely. 

Within  a  very  few  moments  Preston  St.  Ives  found 
out  that  Frank  and  Barney  were  on  their  way  to  New 
York,  and  that  they  were  closely  followed  by  a  party 
of  friends. 

"New  York  is  a  long  distance  away,"  smiled  the 
father  of  the  girl  Frank  had  rescued.  "At  most,  you 
would  not  think  of  proceeding  farther  than  Philadel- 
phia to-night." 

"We  intended  to  stop  there,"  said  Frank. 

"But  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should  be  in  a 
great  hurry,"  said  St.  Ives,  "and  so  you  must  stop  at 
Springbrook  Farm  to-night." 

"Springbrook  Farm?" 

"That  is  our  country  place,"  Kenneth  hastily  ex- 
plained. "It  is  a  roomy,  old-fashioned  place,  and 


At  Springbrook  Farm.  181 

there  will  be  plenty  of  room  for  you  all.  You  can't 
refuse,  Mr.  Merriwell!" 

At  first  Frank  attempted  to  decline  the  invitation, 
but  Iva  added  her  invitation  to  that  of  her  father  and 
brother,  and  Kenneth  promised  a  jolly  time,  so  that 
Merry  was  really  inclined  to  go.  A  look  at  Barney's 
face  showed  he  was  eager  to  have  Frank  accept  the 
invitation. 

"Well,  Barney/'  said  Frank,  "if  we  stop  at  Spring- 
brook  Farm  to-night,  you'll  have  to  watch  out  for  the 
fellows  and  let  them  know  about  it." 

"Thot  Oi'll  do,  Frankie,"  immediately  agreed  the 
Irish  lad.  "But  pwhere  is  Springbrook  Farrum!" 

"The  farm  may  be  seen  from  the  top  of  the  hill  yon- 
der," said  Kenneth.  "Come  along  with  us,  and  we 
will  point  it  out  to  you." 

At  this  juncture,  Stephen  Fenton  suddenly  yanked 
the  head  of  his  horse  about,  gave  the  creature  a  cut 
with  the  whip,  and  went  tearing  along  the  road  in  a 
cloud  of  dust,  having  left  the  others  without  a  word. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  him?"  cried  Preston  St. 
Ives,  watching  the  fellow  with  a  look  of  displeasure. 
"It's  a  wonder  that  horse  doesn't  run  away  with  him 
and  kill  him!" 

"Oh,  he  has  been  in  a  cross  mood  all  the  afternoon, 
papa,"  said  Iva.  "He  is  out  of  sorts  with  everything 
and  everybody,  and  it  was  because  he  accidently  struck 
Rex  with  his  whip  that  the  dear  old  fellow  ran  away 
with  me." 

She  caressed  the  muzzle  of  the  horse  as  she  spoke, 
and  the  creature  seemed  pleased  with  such  attention. 


182  At  Springbrook  Farm. 

"It  would  serve  him  right  if  Firefoot  should  run 
away  with  him!"  exclaimed  Kenneth,  also  watching 
the  retreating  form  of  Fenton.  "He  is  hard  on  a 
horse,  and  it's  a  wonder  to  me  that  he  hasn't  been 
killed  before  this.  He  seems  to  stick  in  the  saddle 
some  way,  although  he  is  anything  but  an  easy  rider." 

"If  that  horse's  mouth  is  not  already  spoiled,  he  will 
spoil  it  in  a  week,"  declared  Frank. 

Mr.  St.  Ives  gave  Merry  a  quick  look,  as  if  won- 
dering what  he  knew  about  horses. 

"I  think  you  are  right,  young  man,"  he  said.  "I 
didn't  want  to  let  him  have  Firefoot,  but  he  seemed 
to  take  a  fancy  to  the  creature,  and  not  another  horse 
out  of  the  stableful  would  satisfy  him.  He'll  not  get 
the  animal  again." 

Then  there  was  a  mounting  of  horses,  while  Frank 
went  back  along  the  road  to  look  for  his  wheel.  He 
found  the  bicycle  all  right  as  it  lay  beside  the  road, 
Barney  having  stopped  to  get  it  out  of  the  highway. 

The  Irish  lad  accompanied  Frank,  and  he  was  en- 
thusiastic over  the  prospect  of  sport  at  Springbrook 
Farm. 

"It's  no  tellin'  pwhat  we'll  stroike  there,  me  b'y !"  he 
chuckled.  "It's  the  last  chance  for  a  bit  av  fun  before 
we  get  inther  New  York." 

"I  didn't  intend  to  stop  again  for  anything,  for  we 
spent  far  too  much  time  at  Blue  Cove.  Virginia  was 
not  easy  to  break  away  from." 

"Roight  ye  are,  Frankie.  It's  a  great  Shtate  Vir- 
ginny  do  be.  An'  the  b'ys  down  there  are  all  roight." 

"As  fine  a  set  of  fellows  as  I  have  met  anywhere  in 


At  Springbrook  Farm.  183 

the  whole  country,"  declared  Merry,  with  a  touch  of 
enthusiasm.  "They  are  chivalrous,  hospitable  and 
sporty.  Jack  Diamond  is  a  representative  Virginian. 
He  is  all  right." 

"Yis,  he  seems  to  be  since  he  got  back  inther  this 
parrut  av  th'  country,  but  it's  a  growler  Oi  thought 
he  wur  at  firrust." 

"He  did  not  seem  like  himself  while  we  were  in 
the  West,"  confessed  Frank.  "I  was  surprised  at  the 
change  in  him,  but  I  knew  it  was  not  natural,  and  I 
bore  with  him." 

The  others  came  up,  Frank  mounted  his  wheel,  and 
they  all  rode  along  together,  chatting  pleasantly. 
Frank  was  questioned,  and  he  told  of  his  trip  across 
the  continent  and  back,  arousing  Kenneth  St.  Ives' 
interest. 

"Well,  you  must  have  had  sport!"  Kenneth  ex- 
claimed. "I  should  have  enjoyed  that.  Say,  father, 
we  must  get  up  something  in  the  way  of  sport  while 
they  are  at  Springbrook.  Can't  we  have  a  hunt  ?" 

"It's  too  early  in  the  season,  my  son,"  smiled  Mr.  St. 
Ives. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  declared  Kenneth. 
"We're  liable  to  have  a  frost  any  morning  now.  It  is 
chilly  at  times  for  this  season.  Perhaps  to-morrow 
morning " 

"The  Meadowfair  Club  visits  us  to-morrow,  you 
know." 

"I  had  forgotten  that.  So  much  the  better!  If 
Mr.  Merriwell  and  his  friends  will  stay,  we'll  find 
some  sort  of  sport  to  amuse  them." 


1 84  At  Springbrook  Farm. 

The  top  of  the  hill  was  reached,  and  then  Spring- 
brook  Farm  was  pointed  out,  lying  on  a  hillside  two 
miles  distant.  It  was  a  beautiful  place.  The  great 
stables  seemed  modern,  but  the  house  was  an  immense 
colonial  mansion,  surrounded  by  tall  trees.  The  farm- 
ing land  was  a  broad  prospect  of  cleared  land,  upon 
which  were  great  meadows  and  small  groves.  Cattle 
and  horses  were  to  be  seen,  and  it  had  the  appearance 
of  a  stock  or  dairy  farm. 

"There  is  the  place,  Mr.  Merriwell!"  cried  Kenneth 
St  Ives ;  "and  a  more  beautiful  spot  is  not  to  be  found 
in  all  Pennsylvania." 

Frank  did  not  wonder  at  Kenneth's  enthusiasm. 

Not  far  from  the  old  mansion  was  a  small  lake,  with 
a  boathouse  on  the  shore,  and  some  boats  lying  near. 

Frank  felt  sure  that  the  rest  of  the  party  could  not 
be  far  behind,  so  Barney  would  not  be  compelled  to 
wait  long;  but  it  was  necessary  that  some  one  should 
meet  them,  as  Springbrook  Farm  lay  off  from  the 
main  highway,  being  reached  by  means  of  a  private 
drive,  and  the  bicyclists,  unless  notified,  would  not 
know  Frank  contemplated  stopping  there. 

Barney  was  willing  to  wait  for  them,  and  so  the 
others  rode  onward,  Frank  wheeling  along  and  chatting 
with  them  all. 

Stephen  Fenton  was  seen  riding  up  the  last  incline 
toward  the  distant  mansion,  still  forcing  his  horse. 

When  the  place  was  reached  a  hostler  was  at  work 
over  Firefoot  in  one  of  the  stables,  an-*  >he  animal 
showed  the  abuse  it  had  received. 


At  Springbrook  Farm.  185 

Mr.  St.  Ives  dismounted  and  looked  Firefoot  over, 
observing : 

"That's  fine  shape  for  a  horse  to  be  in  after  a  canter 
along  the  road.  The  creature  could  not  look  worse  if 
it  had  been  following  the  hounds  across  country.  I 
think  Stephen  will  have  to  take  another  horse  the  next 
time  he  goes  out." 

"Beggin'  yer  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  hostler,  with 
gruff  respect;  "but  he  says  as  how  he  were  not  to 
blame.  You  knows,  sir,  as  how  this  beast  is  onruly, 
sir,  an'  Mr.  Fenton  says  it  were  skeered  by  some  saucy 
chaps  on  bisuckles  that  paid  no  attention  to  its  snortin* 
an*  rearin'.  You  know  yerself,  sir,  as  how  most  of 
the  bisuckle  riders  are  sassy  villains,  sir." 

This  was  said  regardless  of  the  fact  that  Frank  had 
trundled  his  wheel  into  the  stable,  and  the  hostler  could 
not  help  knowing  a  cyclist  was  hearing  every  word  he 
spoke. 

Preston  St.  Ives  did  not  deign  to  make  any  reply 
to  the  hostler's  words,  but  said : 

"See  that  Firefoot  is  well  rubbed  down  and  cared 
for,  Wade.  You  need  not  let  Stephen  have  him  again. 
Remember." 

"All  right,  sir — all  right,"  muttered  the  hostler, 
glancing  at  Frank  in  a  side-long  manner.  "You 
knows  your  business,  sir,  an'  I'm  here  to  take  your 
orders,  sir." 

The  hostler  had  several  assistants,  and  they  were 
on  hand  to  care  for  the  animals  just  brought  in. 

Kenneth  showed  Frank  where  to  leave  his  wheel, 
and  then  Merry  followed  the  youth  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

TWO     ENCOUNTERS. 

<rVale,"  grunted  Hans,  as  he  stretched  himself  on 
the  ground  in  the  shade  of  some  shrubbery,  "uf  dese 
don't  peat  der  pand,  you  vos  a  liar !" 

"Wai,  I'm  swuzzled  ef  it  ain't  pretty  gol  darn 
slick,"  agreed  Ephraim,  thrusting  his  hands  into  his 
pockets  and  looking  around  admiringly.  "It's  queer 
haow  Frank  falls  inter  sech  snaps  as  these.  Heer  we 
be  invited  to  stay  right  heer  at  this  place  an'  make  aour- 
selves  to  hum  jest  as  long  as  we  want  to." 

"And  I  feel  as  if  I  could  remain  here  forever," 
grunted  Bruce,  from  a  comfortable  hammock,  of  which 
he  had  taken  immediate  possession  on  seeing  it. 
"There's  something  soothing  and  restful  about  this 
place  that  agrees  with  my  nerves  and  promises  balm 
and  healing  for  my  constitution  that  has  been  shattered 
by  Arkansaw  chills.  It's  simply  great!" 

"It  is  rather  jolly,"  said  the  voice  of  Harry  from  the 
cool  shadows  of  a  vine-covered  arbor. 

"But  it's  tame  it'd  be  afther  a  bit,  me  b'ys,"  declared 
Barney  Mulloy,  who  was  leaning  against  the  trunk 
of  a  tree.  "It's  sbort  we're  lookin'  afther,  an'  it's  ded 
quoiet  here." 

"Mr.  Kenneth  St.  Ives  promises  us  some  sport  if 
we  care  to  remain,"  put  in  Bart  Hodge,  quietly. 

"Phwat  sort  av  sbort  do  yez  think  they  can  scare 


Two  Encounters.  187 

up  here?"  asked  Barney,  with  a  trace  of  contempt  in 
his  voice.  "It's  croquet  we  moight  play,  but  thot's 
altogether  too  excoiting." 

"Yaw,"  grunted  Hans;  "dot  growkay  likes  me,  for 
id  don'd  peen  so  much  drouble  to  blay  him.  Der  balls 
can  knock  me  apoud  shust  so  easy  as  nefer  vas." 

"Frank  and  Jack  seem  to  be  enjoying  some  mild 
sport,"  said  Harry,  as  the  click  of  billiard  balls  and 
MerriweH's  infectious  laugh  came  from  the  open  win- 
dows of  a  large  summerhouse  in  the  shrubbery  close 
at  hand. 

"Those  fellows  never  seem  to  care  about  resting," 
grunted  Browning.  "They  will  wear  themselves  out 
long  before  they  are  old  men,  unless  they  let  up  in  their 
wild  career." 

All  of  the  boys  had  reached  Springbrook  Farm,  and 
Toots  was  taking  care  of  their  wheels.  They  had  been 
left  to  themselves  for  a  time,  while  Preston  St.  Ives 
and  Kenneth  went  away  to  see  that  proper  arrange- 
ments were  made  for  the  entertainment  of  their  guests. 

It  had  not  taken  Frank  and  Jack  long  to  find  the 
billiard  table  and  get  into  a  game,  pulling  off  their 
jackets  to  it,  as  if  they  were  in  deadly  earnest. 

As  the  boys  lolled  there  in  the  shade,  they  saw  Harry 
Harden  and  Iva  St.  Ives  come  down  a  walk  and  pass 
near  them,  chatting  and  laughing,  seeming  well  satis- 
fied with  each  other's  society. 

At  a  distance  behind  them,  taking  care  not  to  be 
seen,  Stephen  Fenton  stole  along,  keeping  jealous  watch 
of  them. 

"Aisy,     b'ys,"    warned    Barney,    speaking     softly. 


1 88  Two  Encounters. 

"Take  a  look  at  th'  spalpane  through  th'  bresh  here. 
It's  a  dirruty  face  he  has,  or  me  name's  not  Mulloy." 

"That's  what  he  has,"  nodded  Hodge,  who  took  an 
instant  dislike  to  Fenton.  "Who  is  he?  Is  that  the 
fellow  who  was  with  Miss  St.  Ives?" 

"Th'  same,  bad  cess  to  him !  She  was  afther  callin* 
him  'cousin.' ' 

"He  is  following  them!"  exclaimed  Harry,  softly. 
"You  don't  suppose  he  will  try  any  crooked  work,  do 
you?" 

"Oi  have  a  fancy  Misther  Harden  can  look  out  for 
hisself,  me  lads,"  said  Barney.  "Oi'll  back  him 
against  Mr.  Fenton." 

"Yaw,"  said  Hans.  "When  Parney  says  dot,  id 
peen  all  right.  He  knows  my  pusiness."  Then  the 
Dutch  boy  relapsed  into  a  position  of  comfort  again, 
while  the  jealous  spy  passed  on,  watching  the  couple 
ahead  of  him. 

Five  minutes  later  the  boys  were  startled  by  the 
sound  of  excited  voices  and  a  feminine  cry  of  alarm. 

Barney  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  that  sound,  for  he 
sprang  away  like  a  flash,  and  Bart  Hodge  was  not  far 
behind  him.  Through  the  shrubbery  crashed  the  two, 
and,  in  a  moment,  reached  a  spot  where  they  were 
able  to  see  what  was  taking  place. 

One  young  man  was  rising  from  the  ground,  while 
another  stood  over  him,  with  clinched  fists,  evidently 
having  knocked  him  down.  To  the  arm  of  the  latter, 
begging  him  not  to  strike  again,  clung  Iva  St.  Ives. 

"Oi  knew  it!"  chuckled  Barney  in  delight     "It's 


Two  Encounters. 


i: 


Fenton  thot  interfared,  an'  th'  other  b'y  knocked  him 
down." 

In  truth,  Fenton  it  was  who  was  getting  up  from 
the  ground,  while  it  was  plain  that  he  had  been  struck 
by  Harden. 

"Oh,  I'll  even  this!"  snarled  the  man  who  had  re- 
ceived the  blow. 

"Come  on!"  cried  Harden,  whose  blood  was 
aroused. 

"Stop,  Cousin  Stephen — stop,  Mr.  Harden!"  cried 
the  girl,  in  distress.  "You  shall  not  fight!" 

"He  insulted  me!"  flamed  Harden. 

"I  called  you  a  sneaking  cur,  as  you  are!"  hissed 
Fenton,  getting  upon  his  feet. 

"And  I  knocked  you  down,  as  you  deserved!"  flung 
back  the  other  young  man. 

"Hurro !"  came  softly  from  the  lips  of  the  Irish  lad. 
"Thot's  th'  shtuff!  Sail  in,  Misther  Fenton,  an'  do 
up  th'  spalpane!" 

At  this  moment  the  other  boys,  with  the  exception 
of  Browning,  came  crashing  through  the  hedge,  and 
were  by  the  two  young  men. 

Fenton  looked  up,  muttered  an  imprecation  and  then 
sibilated  at  Harden: 

"We  will  settle  this  some  other  time!" 

"At  any  time  you  like,"  was  the  prompt  retort. 

Then  Fenton  whirled  and  quickly  vanished  in  the 
shrubbery. 

"It's  all  over,"  said  Hodge.  "Let's  get  out  of  this 
instanter,  for  it  must  be  a  trifle  embarrassing  to  Miss 
St  Ives." 


190  Two  Encounters. 

This  little  encounter  had  revealed  to  the  boys  that 
Fenton  was  jealous  of  Harden,  who,  plainly  enough, 
was  paying  attentions  to  Iva. 

"I  believe  Fenton  is  a  bad  man  to  have  for  an 
enemy,"  said  Rattleton,  with  unusual  seriousness,  as 
the  boys  once  more  gathered  about  the  hammock,  which 
Browning  had  not  left  for  all  of  anything  that  was 
taking  place  beyond  the  shrubbery. 

"Well,"  said  Hodge,  slowly,  "it's  not  likely  he  is  in 
love  with  Frank,  for  Merry  was  not  willing  to  be  im- 
posed upon  by  him.  Frank  may  have  to  look  out  for 
the  fellow."  ' 

"What's  that  you  are  telling  about  me?"  called  the 
pleasant  voice  of  Frank  himself,  as  he  emerged  from 
beneath  the  vines  over  the  door  of  the  summerhouse 
followed  by  Diamond.  "I'm  all  the  time  looking  out 
for  somebody.  Here  I've  been  having  the  battle  of 
my  life  with  Jack,  and  only  beat  him  one  point.  I  won 
the  game  on  a  fluke,  at  that." 

"But  he  won  it,  as  he  always  wins  everything  he 
goes  into,"  said  the  Virginian,  with  traces  of  mingled 
vexation  and  admiration. 

Toots  came  panting  toward  the  spot  all  out  of 
breath. 

"Lordy !  Lordy !"  he  gasped ;  "I  done  'clare  teh  good- 
ness, I's  'feared  to  stay  'roun'  dat  stable  any  mo' !" 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Frank.  "You  haven't 
cleaned  up  all  those  wheels  as  soon  as  this?" 

"No,  sar;  but  dat  hostler  in  dar  am  crazy  ma-ad, 
sar." 

"What's  the  matter  with  him?" 


Two  Encounters.  191 

"He  done  suffin'  to  dat  hawse  Fiahfoot,  an*  de 
hawse  don  kick  him  up  again'  de  side  ob  de  stall. 
Wondah  it  didn't  kill  him,  sar!  Po-erful  wondah  it 
didn't  bre'k  some  ob  his  bones !  Made  him  so  mad  he 
got  a  fork  an'  was  gwan  teh  stick  it  right  inteh  dat 
hawse.  I  couldn't  stan'  teh  see  dat,  an'  I  hollered. 
Den  he  see  I  was  a-watchin'  ob  him,  an'  he  was  ma-ad 
enough  teh  kill  meh,  sar.  I  don'  dar'  stay  an'  clean 
dem  bisuckles,  Marser  Frank." 

"Those  wheels  must  be  cleaned  to-night,"  said  Mer- 
riwell,  decisively.  "Come  with  me,  Toots,  and  I  will 
settle  this  thing  so  the  hostler  will  not  interfere  with 
you." 

He  strode  away  toward  the  stable,  and  the  colored 
boy  followed  at  his  heels.  Hodge  and  Rattleton  fol- 
lowed more  leisurely. 

As  Frank  entered  suddenly  he  detected  the  hostler, 
wrench  in  hand,  doing  something  to  one  of  the  bicycles. 
It  looked  as  if  the  man  was  making  an  attempt  to  ruin 
the  wheel. 

And  it  happened  that  the  wheel  belonged  to  Frank! 

Three  bounds  took  Merriwell  to  the  side  of  the 
man,  whom  he  grasped  by  the  collar,  crying: 

"What  are  you  doing  there?" 

The  man  straightened  up,  and  turned  his  bloodshot 
eyes  on  the  youth.  His  face  was  flushed,  and  the  odor 
of  his  breath  told  he  had  been  drinking  heavily. 

"Leggo !"  he  snarled ;  "leggo,  or  I'll  smash  ye !" 

"What  were  you  doing  to  that  wheel?"  demanded 
Frank. 

"None  o'  yer  business!"  roared  the  hostler.     Then 


193  Two  Encounters. 

he  dropped  the  wrench,  and  made  a  swinging  blow  at 
the  boy. 

Frank  dodged  the  blow  and  thrust  out  his  foot  in  a 
manner  that  sent  the  awkward  man  sprawling. 

"Land  ob  wartermillions !"  squawked  Toots,  de- 
lighted. 

As  the  hostler  scrambled  up,  his  fingers  encountered 
the  handle  of  the  wrench  and  closed  around  it.  His 
face  was  purple  with  anger,  and  there  was  a  furious 
glare  in  his  bloodshot  eyes.  The  thick  lips,  purple 
and  swollen,  curled  back  from  his  tobacco-stained  teeth, 
and  with  a  snarl  that  might  have  issued  from  the  throat 
of  some  wild  beast,  he  flung  the  wrench  at  Frank's 
head. 

"Look  out  dar!" 

Toots  uttered  the  cry,  but  Merriwell  was  watching 
the  man  closely,  and  he  dodged  the  missile,  which  went 
whizzing  past  with  an  unpleasant  sound. 

A  man  was  just  stepping  in  at  the  door,  and  the 
wrench  struck  him  on  the  breast,  knocking  him  down 
as  if  he  had  been  shot. 

Then  Rattleton  and  Hodge  came  running  up,  and 
bent  over  the  fallen  man,  who  lay  groaning  on  the 
ground. 

It  was  Stephen  Fenton! 

The  hostler  seemed  suddenly  sobered  by  his  act. 

"Gosh!"  he  muttered.  "It  were  Steve  I  hit!  Hope 
I  didn't  kill  him!" 

Frank  was  keeping  watch  of  Wade,  but  saw  the 
man  was  appalled  by  the  result  of  his  angry  act,  and 
so  ventured  to  turn  about  and  hasten  to  Fenton's  side. 


Two  Encounters.  193 

"Bring  some  water !"  he  ordered.  "He  may  be  seri- 
ously injured!" 

Fenton's  face  was  purple,  and  he  was  gasping  for 
breath,  but,  as  Merriwell  stooped  to  lift  his  head,  he 
feebly  but  savagely  motioned  him  back. 

"Hands  off!"  gasped  the  man.  "Keep  away  from 
me!" 

Toots  came  running  up  with  some  water. 

"Heah,  boss!"  he  cried;  "heah's  yo'  watah!" 

"What  do  I  want  of  water!  Anybody — got  some 
— whiskey  ?" 

"Here!"  cried  Wade,  qujckly  stepping  forward,  and 
taking  a  bottle  from  a  pocket  inside  his  red  flannel 
shirt;  "here's  a  bit." 

It  was  a  pint  bottle,  nearly  a  third  full.  Fenton 
grasped  it  with  a  shaking  hand  as  he  sat  up,  lifted  it 
to  his  lips,  and  did  not  take  it  down  till  he  had  swal- 
lowed the  last  drop. 

With  a  growl,  he  got  upon  his  feet,  flinging  the 
empty  bottle  aside.  He  gave  Frank  a  fierce  look,  then 
addressed  Wade: 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Bill?  Did  you  want 
to  kill  me?" 

"I  didn't  throw  it  at  ye,  Steve — I  mean  Mr.  Fenton. 
I  didn't  mean  ter  hit  ye." 

Fenton  rubbed  his  chest  and  coughed. 

"Lucky  you  didn't  kill  me,"  he  said,  huskily. 

Kenneth  St.  Ives  appeared. 

"What's  the  matter  here?"  he  asked. 

The  hostler  hastened  to  explain  that  he  was  simply 


194  Two  Encounters. 

moving  the  bicycles  out  of  the  way  when  Frank  Mem- 
well  assaulted  him. 

"It  was  my  wheel,"  said  Frank,  making  a  hasty  ex- 
amination, "and  he  has  loosened  things  up  generally 
around  it.  If  I  were  to  attempt  to  ride  it  now  with- 
out putting  it  in  shape,  the  chances  are  that  I  would 
break  my  neck  the  first  hill  I  came  to.  It  is  plain 
enough  that  this  wheel  has  been  doctored  to  give  me 
a  fall." 

Kenneth  examined  it,  and  saw  at  a  glance  that  Frank 
was  right.  Still,  the  hostler  protested  that  he  had 
done  nothing  to  the  wheel  save  move  it  over  slightly, 
so  it  would  not  be  in  the  way. 

"These  wheels  are  not  in  your  way,  Wade,"  said 
Kenneth,  sternly,  "and  you  may  let  them  alone.  You 
have  been  drinking,  and  you  know  that  means  you 
stand  a  good  chance  of  losing  your  position." 

The  hostler  looked  sullen  and  subdued,  but  said 
nothing.  His  assistants  had  appeared,  attracted  by 
the  sound  of  the  encounter,  but  they  were  holding 
aloof. 

Kenneth  reprimanded  Wade  severely,  and  then  in- 
formed Frank  that  supper  was  ready  for  the  party. 

The  boys  had  been  given  a  chance  to  wash  up, 
and  soon  they  were  seated  about  a  long  table  in  the 
cool  dining-room  of  the  old  mansion,  with  Kenneth  St 
Ives  acting  as  host. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

HANS   USES   THE   HOSE. 

A  jolly  party  it  was.  They  laughed,  and  joked,  and 
told  stories.  They  ate,  and  drank,  and  were  happy. 
Browning  fairly  groaned  with  satisfaction,  and  then 
tried  to  disguise  the  groan  by  a  cough.  Hans  gasped 
as  he  looked  about  at  the  good  things  with  which  the 
table  was  loaded,  and  his  eyes  bulged. 

"Shimminy  Ghristmas !"  he  gurgled.  "I  feel  like  all 
dot  stuff  could  ead  me  up  und  not  half  dry.  I  ain'd 
seen  nottings  like  dot  for  so  long  dot  you  don'd  re- 
memper  id." 

"Wai,  gol  darned  ef  this  air  ain't  a  slappin'  good 
layout !"  observed  Ephraim.  "I  was  beginnin'  to  wish 
I  was  to  hum  on  the  farm  where  I  could  git  some  baked 
'taturs,  but  baked  'taturs  won't  cut  no  ice  with  me 
arter  I  git  threw  with  this  fodder." 

"Hearty  appetites  are  in  vogue  at  Springbrook 
Farm,"  laughed  Kenneth;  "and  I  want  you  all  to  eat 
till  you  are  perfectly  satisfied.  Athletes  should  eat 
well  at  times." 

"Yaw,"  nodded  Hans,  "I  pelief  me ;  but  dot  Vrankie 
Merrivell  peen  keepin'  der  barty  in  draining  so  much 
dot  I  don'd  had  nottings  to  ead  vot  you  like  two 
veeks  a  time  at.  Dot  kindt  uf  pusiness  makes  you  got 
fat  like  a  ghost." 

"Speaking  about  ghosts,"  said  Kenneth,  with  a  sly 


196  Hans  Uses  the  Hose. 

wink  at  Merriwell,  "there  is  a  story  that  our  summer- 
house  is  haunted.  As  you  fellows  are  going  to  stop 
there  to-night,  I  trust  you  will  not  be  troubled  by 
spirits." 

Hans'  jaw  dropped. 

"Vot?"  he  squawked.  "I  don'd  toldt  you  dere  peen 
a  ghost  dot  house  in?" 

"Sure,"  nodded  Kenneth.  "Those  who  have  seen 
it  describe  it  as  a  tall,  white  figure,  and  those  who  have 
felt  it  say  it  has  clammy,  ice-cold  hands.** 

"Woo!"  cried  Hans,  shivering.  "I  don'd  pelief  I 
vant  to  slept  dot  summerhouses  in !" 

"Oh,  the  ghost  only  appears  occasionally,  and  it  is 
not  at  all  likely  it  will  visit  the  summerhouse  to-night." 

"Vale,  you  don'd  know  apout  dot  Uf  dot  ghost 
heard  I  vos  here,  he  peen  sure  to  come.  Uf  you  gif  me 
a  bistol  und  dot  ghost  came,  mape  he  peen  aple  to  shot 
me." 

"You  mean  that  you  will  be  able  to  shoot  the  ghost." 

"Yaw,  I  meant  dot  I  peen  aple  to  peen  shot  der 
ghost  py." 

"That  wouldn't  hurt  him  any.  Spooks  don't  mind 
being  shot." 

"I  don'd  toldt  you  dot?  Oxcuse  me!  I  vill  slept 
py  der  open  air.  I  don'd  care  apout  sleepin'  in  dot 
summerhouses." 

"Oh,  say!"  exclaimed  Ephraim;  "gol  darn  it!  can't 
you  see  you're  bein'  guyed.  There  ain't  no  ghost  there 
at  all." 

"How  vou  known  dot,  Efy?" 


Hans  Uses  the  Hose.  197 

"Why,  see  urn  larf  at  ye!  Can't  you  tell  by  the 
way  they  act?" 

But  the  Dutch  boy  was  not  satisfied,  and  it  worried 
him  greatly  to  think  he  might  be  visited  by  a  ghost 
that  night  He  insisted  that  he  would  not  sleep  in  the 
summerhouse  unless  provided  with  a  gun. 

After  supper,  however,  Kenneth  took  Hans  aside 
and  explained  that  a  bullet  from  a  gun  or  a  charge  of 
grapeshot  and  canister  out  of  a  cannon  would  not 
have  the  least  effect  on  a  ghost,  but  that  ghosts  could 
not  stand  water. 

"In  the  room  where  you  are  to  sleep  to-night,"  said 
Kenneth,  "there  is  a  hose  pipe  with  a  stopcock  nozzle. 
All  you  need  do  is  take  the  nozzle  end  of  the  pipe  to  bed 
with  you.  If  the  spook  appears,  point  the  nozzle  at 
him,  turn  the  stopcock,  and  let  him  have  it.  He  will 
be  knocked  out  in  the  first  round." 

"Vos  dot  der  lefel  on?"  asked  Hans,  suspiciously. 

"That  is  strictly  on  the  level,"  assured  Kenneth. 

"Vale,  den  I  done  dot.  Let  dot  ghost  come,  und 
I  vill  gif  him  der  greadest  path  vot  I  efer  got." 

In  the  meantime,  Frank  Merriwell  had  taken  Eph- 
raim  aside,  and  was  saying: 

"Gallup,  you  must  scare  the  wits  out  of  that  Dutch- 
man to-night.  You  are  the  tallest  one  in  the  party, 
and  so  you  must  wrap  yourself  in  a  sheet  and  play 
ghost  on  him.  St.  Ives  is  going  to  fix  it  so  we  can  all 
hide  behind  a  curtain  in  one  corner  of  the  room  and 
see  the  fun.  Will  you  do  the  trick?" 

"Course  I  will,"  nodded  Ephraim.     "I'll  skeer  the 


198  Hans  Uses  the  Hose. 

Dutchman  aout  of  his  senses,  b'gosh!  Won't  it  be 
heaps  of  fun!" 

"Sure  it  will,"  nodded  Frank.  "You  must  strip 
yourself  of  all  your  clothes,  so  you  will  look  as  gaunt 
as  possible,  then  wrap  the  sheet  around  you  and  stalk 
in  on  Hans.  He'll  have  a  fit." 

"Haw!  haw!  haw!"  laughed  the  Vermonter.  "I 
know  I'll  die  of  larfin'  to  see  him !  Haw !  haw!  haw !" 

So  it  was  arranged,  and  Frank  hastened  to  tell  the 
other  boys. 

"This  is  where  Ephraim  gets  taken  in,"  smiled 
Merry.  "Kenneth  St.  Ives  has  arranged  for  him  to 
turn  the  hose  on  the  spook,  if  one  appears.  If  Hans  is 
not  too  frightened  to  do  anything,  he'll  give  Ephraim 
the  surprise  of  his  life.  With  nothing  but  a  sheet 
over  him,  the  water  from  the  hose  will  go  through 
to  Gallup's  skin  the  first  squirt,  and  we'll  be  where  we 
can  see  the  fun." 

With  no  small  difficulty  Hans  was  induced  to  sleep 
alone  in  a  room  of  the  summerhouse.  At  one  end  of 
the  room  was  an  alcove  that  served  as  a  wardrobe.  In 
front  of  this  alcove  was  a  curtain. 

Kenneth  arranged  it  so  that  the  hose  attached  to  the 
private  waterworks  of  Springbrook  Farm  was  run  in 
at  the  window  of  the  Dutch  boy's  room,  and  a  full  head 
of  pressure  kept  on.  He  showed  Hans  how  to  turn  the 
stopcock  and  let  the  water  fly  at  the  spook. 

Just  before  the  party  was  ready  to  retire  Frank  came 
upon  Gallup  and  Dunnerwust,  who  were  talking  to- 
gether and  laughing  in  an  odd  manner. 


Hans  Uses  the  Hose.  199 

"Here!"  exclaimed  Merry,  "what  are  you  fellows 
chuckling  over?" 

He  was  afraid  the  Dutch  boy  had  told  Ephraira 
about  the  manner  in  which  he  expected  to  vanquish  the 
ghost. 

"Haw!  haw!  haw!"  laughed  Ephraim.  "I  was 
jest  tellin'  him  I'd  eat  the  gol  darn  ghost  if  he'd 
ketch  it." 

"Yaw !"  chuckled  Hans ;  "und  I  toldt  him  I  peen  retty 
to  pet  zwi  tollars  der  ghost  vould  ketch  it.  He  don'd 
know  vot  I  mean  py  dot,  un  don'd  you  toldt  him  not- 
tings." 

Frank  hastened  to  get  the  two  boys  apart,  and  re- 
mained with  Hans  till  the  latter  was  ready  to  go  to 
bed. 

"You  don'd  pelief  dere  peen  any  ghost,  did  you, 
Vrankie?"  asked  the  Dutch  lad,  sleepily. 

"Of  course  not,"  assured  Frank.  "That's  a  guy 
yarn  St.  Ives  gave  you.  There's  nothing  in  it." 

"Vale,  I  peen  so  sleeby  I  can'd  kept  meinseluf  avake 
no  longer.  Good-nighd,  poys.  I  vas  goin'  to  ped." 

Then  Hans  waddled  off  to  his  room. 

It  was  not  far  from  midnight  when  the  boys  arose 
and  prepared  for  the  fun.  Kenneth  St.  Ives  was  on 
hand.  He  had  provided  some  ice  for  Ephraim. 

"When  we  all  get  behind  the  curtain  that  hangs  be- 
fore the  alcove,"  said  Kenneth,  "you  come  into  the 
room,  Gallup,  stalk  up  to  the  bed  and  run  this  piece 
of  ice  around  over  the  Dutchman's  face.  If  that  don't 
frighten  him  out  of  his  wits,  I've  made  a  big  mis- 
take." 


aoo  Hans  Uses  the  Hose. 

"It's  a  yell  thot'll  wake  ivrybody  fer  a  moile  he'll  be 
afther  givin'  whin  he  fales  th'  oice  an'  sees  Ephraim  in 
the  whoite  shate,"  chuckled  Barney. 

In  pajamas  and  nightclothes,  the  boys  tiptoed  up  to 
the  door  of  Hans'  room,  opened  it  softly,  and  listened. 

Hans  was  snoring. 

One  by  one,  the  young  jokers  slipped  into  the  room 
and  concealed  themselves  behind  the  curtain.  The 
moon  was  up,  and  a  broad  strip  of  light  came  in  by  the 
window  and  made  the  room  light  enough  for  them  to 
watch  what  was  to  take  place. 

With  a  sharp  knife,  which  went  the  rounds,  each  boy 
cut  a  slit  in  the  curtain  so  he  could  peer  out. 

When  everything  was  ready  for  the  appearance  of 
the  "ghost,"  they  were  startled  to  hear  Hans  mut- 
tering : 

"I  know  how  to  feex  you.  Vater — goot  coldt  vater ; 
Oh,  uf  I  don'd  gif  you  a  path,  you  vos  a  liar !" 

"He  is  sleeping  in  his  talk — I  mean,  talking  in  his 
sleep,"  whispered  Rattleton.  "He  is  thinking  of  the 
way  he  will  fix  the  ghost.  Oh,  my!  what  a  joke!" 

Then  he  clasped  a  hand  over  his  mouth  to  keep  from 
laughing  aloud  to  think  what  fun  they  would  have. 

"Ven  you  peen  all  retty  you  said  so,"  muttered  Hans, 
apparently  continuing  to  talk  in  his  sleep. 

"Wai,"  said  the  "ghost,"  speaking  aloud,  to  the  as- 
tonishment of  the  boys  behind  the  curtain,  "I  ruther 
guess  ev'rything's  all  ready.  Let  her  rip !" 

Then  the  curtain  behind  which  the  jokers  crouched 
was  suddenly  snatched  away. 


Hans  Uses  the  Hose.  201 

At  the  same  instant,  Hans  sat  up  in  bed,  and  turned 
the  stopcock  of  the  hose. 

Swish — spat ! 

A  powerful  stream  of  chilling  water  shot  through 
the  air  directly  toward  that  alcove.  It  struck  the  as- 
tounded boys,  drenching  them  in  a  moment  and  knock- 
ing some  of  them  over.  The  others  piled  upon  the 
fallen  ones,  and  all  shouted  with  astonishment  and 
disgust. 

Then  Hans,  grasping  the  hose,  bounced  to  his  feet, 
standing  upright  in  the  middle  of  the  bed,  and  poured 
the  stream  of  cold  water  down  upon  that  struggling, 
squirming  mass  in  the  corner. 

"Oh,  say,  vot  a  shoke  dot  vos!"  cried  the  Dutch 
boy,  swaying  the  nozzle  of  the  hose  to  evenly  distribute 
the  water  over  all  the  boys.  "Ain'd  you  hafin'  fun 
mit  us !  I  don'd  belief  you  nefer  seen  der  peat  uf  dese 
shoke  before  all  your  life  in!  You  don'd  vorget  der 
fun  vat  you  had  mit  us  to-nighd  a  long  dime  in." 

"Haw!  haw!  haw!"  roared  Ephraim.  "Soak  it  to 
urn,  Hans!  Ain't  they  havin'  a  regular  picnic  with 
us!  Ho!  ho!  ho  This  is  more  fun  than  hoein' 
'taters!" 

"Stop  it!"  cried  Rattleton,    gasping    for    breath. 
"You    blundering    Dutchman    turn    that    hose — 
Woogh-uh-oogh-uh — oogh !" 

The  stream  from  the  hose  had  struck  Harry  full 
and  fair  in  the  mouth,  and  he  was  nearly  drowned. 

"Oi'll  murther  thot  Dutch  chaze!"  shouted  Mulloy. 
"Oi  won't  lave  a  whole  bone  in  his  body!  Oi'll 


202  Hans  Uses  the  Hose. 

Wa-ow!  Murther!  Boo!  Thot's  cold!  It's  dead  Oi 
am  intoirely!" 

"Hello,  Parney!"  called  Hans,  mockingly;  "how 
you  don'd  like  dot  ghost  pusiness,  hey  ?  Don'd  id  peen 
vunny !" 

"Thunder  and  guns!"  roared  Browning.  "This 
will  give  me  another  Arkansaw  chill !  Somebody  will 
get  hurt  when  I  find  out  who  put  up  this  job  on 
me!" 

Hodge  and  Diamond  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  get 
away,  but  Hans  saw  them,  and  gave  them  a  straight 
shot  that  knocked  them  down  again  in  the  midst  of 
the  struggling,  squirming,  kicking  and  shouting  lads. 

"Great  Caesar!"  cried  Kenneth  St.  Ives,  as  he  un- 
tangled himself  from  the  drenched  and  kicking  mass. 
"The  joke  is  on  us!" 

"It  looks  that  way  from  the  road,"  admitted  Frank, 
who  was  laughing  heartily  as  he  crowded  his  body 
back  into  a  corner  to  get  away  from  the. water.  "That 
confounded  Yankee  was  too  sharp  to  be  taken  in,  and 
he  put  up  this  job  with  Hans.  Goodness!  hear  him 
laugh!" 

Ephraim  was  haw-hawing  in  a  manner  that  told 
how  delighted  he  was,  and  the  roly-poly  Dutch  boy  was 
dancing  up  and  down  on  the  bed,  as  he  continued  to 
drench  the  shivering,  scrambling,  shouting  lads  in  the 
alcove. 

"Oh,  don'd  you  think  dese  pen  der  most  fun  I  efer 
had!"  gurgled  Hans.  "Dese  peen  der  vay  to  got  a 
shoke  a  ghost  on.  Yaw!  Vot  do  I  think  uf  dese 
ghost  pusiness  now,  hey?" 


Hans  Uses  the  Hose.  203 

"Haw!  haw!  haw!"  roared  Ephraim,  holding  onto 
his  sides,  and  doubling  up  with  laughter.  "Gol  darned 
ef  this  wouldn't  make  a  kaow  larf!  Give  it  to  urn, 
Hans!" 

"Oh,  yaw,  I  peen  goin'  to  cool  them  down.  After 
dese  don'd  you  pelief  me  ven  dey  toldt  you  I  vos  scared 
mit  a  ghost.  Hello,  Raddleton!  Oxcuse  me  uf  you 
got  der  vay  in.  I  didn'd  seen  you  pime-py.  You  ox- 
beet  I  vos  havin'  a  goot  time,  hey?" 

Harry  had  been  untangling  himself  from  the  others, 
and  now  he  tried  to  get  up,  but  the  stream  of  water 
struck  him  behind  the  ear,  and  keeled  him  over  once 
more,  plumping  his  head  with  great  force  fairly  into 
Browning's  stomach. 

"Thunder  and  lightning!"  roared  the  big  fellow. 
"I'd  rather  be  in  a  football  rush !  I'll  give  ten  dollars 
to  anybody  who  will  pull  me  out  of  this  and  get  me  out 
of  the  room.  My  eyes  are  full  of  water,  and  I  can't 
see." 

"You  don'd  haf  to  took  a  shower  path  der  morn- 
ing in,  Frowning,"  laughed  Hans. 

Then  St.  Ives  and  Merpwell  got  hold  of  each  other, 
and  made  a  break  for  the  door,  doing  it  so  suddenly 
that  they  escaped  before  the  Dutch  boy  could  turn  the 
hose  on  them.  They  remained  outside,  laughing  and 
calling  to  the  others,  who  came  stumbling  blindly  out, 
one  by  one.  dripping  wet  and  hopping  mad. 

"The  joke  is  on  us,  boys,"  laughed  Frank,  "and  we 
may  as  well  make  the  best  of  it.  It's  no  use  to 
kick." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

CHOICE     OF     PONIES. 

Fearing  the  boys  would  attempt  to  retaliate,  Hans 
and  Ephraim  closed  and  barricaded  the  door,  and  the 
Dutch  boy  shouted  that  he  would  "soak"  anybody  who 
tried  to  force  an  entrance. 

Thoroughly  disgusted  with  the  turn  affairs  had 
taken,  Merriwell  and  his  friends  sought  towels  and  dry 
clothing,  and  decided  to  let  Hans  and  Ephraim  alone 
for  the  rest  of  the  night. 

In  the  morning  every  one  about  Springbrook  Farm 
knew  of  the  "ghost  joke,"  and  the  boys  were  "jollied" 
unmercifully,  Kenneth  St.  Ives  being  forced  to  endure 
it  with  the  others. 

The  general  uproar  in  the  summerhouse  had  been 
heard  by  those  in  the  mansion,  and  it  had  set  the 
hounds  to  barking  in  the  stable,  but  the  shouts  of 
laughter  coming  from  the  '£*tse  told  that  it  was  some 
sort  of  frolic,  so  no  one  sought  to  investigate. 

Ephraim  and  Hans  came  forth  in  the  morning,  arm 
in  arm,  although  they  made  a  most  grotesque  couple, 
the  Dutch  boy  being  short,  round  and  fat,  while  the 
Yankee  lad  was  tall,  lank  and  angular. 

The  faces  of  this  odd  pair  were  grave  and  solemn, 
and  their  air  of  innocence  was  refreshing  to  behold. 

"Good-mornin',  fellers,"  nodded  Ephraim.  "I  hope 
yeou  all  slept  fust  rate  late  night?" 


Choice  of  Ponies.  205 

"How  you  peen  dese  mornin',  boys?"  inquired  Hans, 
with  apparent  concern.  "I  hope  you  didn't  disturb 
me  der  night  in.  I  peen  aple  to  slept  shust  like  a  top 
all  der  night  ofer  mitout  vakin'  ub  ad  all." 

"I  am  glad  you  slept  so  well,"  smiled  Frank.  "There 
was  some  noise  about  the  house  in  the  night,  and  I 
thought  it  might  have  aroused  you." 

"I  nefer  heard  something  ad  all,"  declared  Hans. 
"I  pelief  me  I  hat  a  tream  someding  apout  a  ghost,  but 
dot  peen  all." 

"Oh,  say,"  grunted  Browning,  clinching  his  huge 
fist  and  shaking  it  close  down  by  his  side.  "You  wait  1 
There  are  other  days  coming!" 

"Veil,  I  hope  so,"  said  the  Dutch  boy,  blankly.  "I 
don't  vant  dese  von  to  peen  der  last  von." 

After  breakfast  a  jolly  party  came  over  from  the 
Meadowfair  clubhouse,  five  miles  away.  There  were 
nearly  a  dozen  young  ladies,  and  half  as  many  gentle- 
men. It  was  plain  they  were  in  the  habit  of  visiting 
Springbrook  Farm  often,  for  they  were  warmly  wel- 
comed, and  made  themselves  quite  at  home. 

"This  is  jolly!"  cried  Kenneth  St.  Ives,  as  he  intro- 
duced Frank  to  Paul  Stone,  the  leader  of  the  party. 
"I  knew  something  in  the  way  of  sport  would  turn 
up  to-day.  Do  you  play  polo,  Mr.  Merriwell  ?" 

"Yes,"  nodded  Frank,  with  unusual  eagerness;  "I 
have  played  the  game,  but  it  has  been  some  time  since 
I  have  touched  a  mallet." 

"Mr.  Stone  is  a  member  of  the  American  Polo  Asso- 
ciation, as  also  is  Steve  Fenton,  my  cousin.  Harden 
and  I  have  applied,  and  we  expect  to  firet  in.  Father 


206  Choice  of  Ponies. 

has  caused  a  beautiful  green  to  be  laid  over  yonder. 
He  has  worked  upon  it  till  it  is  as  solid  as  the  finest 
green  in  the  country,  and  we  are  looking  to  enjoy 
several  meets  here  before  we  return  to  the  city.  We 
have  been  having  a  few  games,  and  I  think  it  is  royal 
sport" 

"It  is  the  greatest  sport  in  the  world  1"  exclaimed 
Paul  Stone,  enthusiastically. 

Frank  smiled. 

"It  can't  be  that  you  have  played  much  football  or 
baseball,  Mr.  Stone/'  he  said. 

"Baseball  hasn't  the  dash  and  go  of  polo,"  declared 
Stone;  "and  too  many  accidents  happen  at  football. 
It  is  a  dangerous  game." 

"There  is  some  danger  in  polo,"  said  Merry. 

"Just  enough  to  make  it  spicy,"  declared  Stone. 
"There  is  not  as  much  danger  of  getting  broken  noses 
and  broken  necks  as  in  football." 

Frank's  blood  was  beginning  to  bound  in  his  veins, 
for  the  thought  of  a  hot,  exciting  polo  game,  with  its 
sharp  races  and  its  fierce  charges,  was  quite  enough 
to  arouse  the  sporting  instinct  within  him.  He  was 
like  a  war  horse  that  sniffs  the  smoke  of  battle  from 
afar. 

"Well,"  he  cried,  "if  there  is  to  be  a  polo  match,  I'd 
like  to  get  into  it." 

"You  can,"  laughed  Kenneth.  "You  shall  have 
Liner,  the  finest  pony  in  our  bunch.  That  animal 
knows  as  much  as  a  human  being.  Why,  he  can  al- 
most play  polo  alone!" 


Choice  of  Ponies.  207 

A  short  distance  away  Stephen  Fenton  was  talking 
with  another  of  the  Meadowfair  party.  He  was  trying 
to  be  sociable  in  his  sullen  way,  but  his  ears  were  open 
to  all  that  was  passing  near  at  hand,  and  he  plainly 
heard  the  conversation  concerning  polo. 

Kimball,  the  man  Fenton  was  talking  with,  also 
heard  something  of  it,  and  he  exclaimed : 

"Polo  is  the  very  thing !  I  had  thought  of  a  coach- 
ing party,  but  it  is  too  late  for  that  this  morning. 
You'll  play  polo,  won't  you,  Fenton?" 

"Yes,"  nodded  Fenton,  "I'll  play  with  your  side." 

"I  think  that  will  be  agreeable  to  Stone,"  said  Kim- 
ball ;  "but  I  don't  believe  Springbrook  will  want  to  give 
you  up." 

"Well,  I'll  not  play  with  those  stiffs,"  muttered  the 
sullen-faced  fellow.  "I  want  a  good  opportunity  to 
play  against  them." 

In  a  short  time  it  was  arranged.  For  Springbrook, 
St.  Ives,  Harden,  Merriwell  and  Diamond  were  the 
players;  for  Meadowfair,  Stone,  Kimball,  Fenton  and 
a  jolly  young  man  by  the  name  of  Lock  were  to  handle 
the  mallets. 

"Come,  Mr.  Diamond  and  Mr.  Merriwell,"  called 
Kenneth ;  "I  will  provide  you  with  suits." 

They  followed  him  into  the  summerhouse,  where 
such  paraphernalia  was  kept,  and  in  a  short  time  all 
three  were  rigged  out  in  white  breeches,  striped  blouses 
and  high  boots. 

"You  will  find  Liner  a  dandy  polo  pony,  Mr.  Merri- 
well," declared  Kenneth.  "Father  paid  nine  hundred 
dollars  for  him." 


2o8  Choice  of  Ponies. 

"It's  jolly  good  of  you  to  let  me  have  him,  St.  Ives," 
said  Frank.  "Why  don't  you  ride  him  yourself?  I 
don't  feel  like  taking  him  away  from  you." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  laughed  Kenneth.  "You  are 
my  guest.  I'll  ride  Coffin  Head." 

"Coffin  Head!     What  a  name  for  a  horse!" 

"He's  an  old-timer — a  gone-by;  but  he  knows  the 
game,  and  that  is  something  in  his  favor.  Of  course, 
I  do  not  expect  to  cut  much  ice  with  him,  but  I  want 
Diamond  to  have  a  good  mount.  Coffin  Head  has 
seen  his  day,  but  he  has  been  a  dandy." 

Frank  mentally  decided  that  St.  Ives  was  a  fine  fel- 
low, and  all  right  in  every  way. 

They  went  out  to  the  stable,  hearing  the  ringing 
sound  of  a  coach  horn,  and  seeing  a  coaching  party  ap- 
proaching along  the  road. 

"There'll  be  a  jolly  crowd  here!"  cried  Kenneth. 
"There's  a  party  from  Cloverdale.  We'll  have  no 
end  of  sport,  fellows!" 

There  was  a  flush  in  Diamond's  cheeks,  and  it  was 
plain  he  was  eager  for  the  fray,  although  he  said  very 
little. 

Just  as  they  were  on  the  point  of  entering  the  stable, 
Stephen  Fenton  rode  out  on  a  handsome  pony  with 
four  white  feet  and  a  general  smart  look. 

St.  Ives  halted  in  astonishment. 

"Hello,  there!"  he  cried.  "What  are  you  doing 
with  that  horse,  Steve?" 

"I'm  going  to  ride  him  in  the  match,"  answered 
Fenton,  grimly. 


Choice  of  Ponies.  209 

"I  guess  not!"  exclaimed  Kenneth.  "I  have  prom- 
ised Liner  to  Mr.  Merriwell." 

"Can't  help  that,"  retorted  Fenton,  with  a  sneer.  "I 
rode  him  in  the  last  match." 

"And  so  you  should  be  willing  to  let  somebody  else 
have  him  to-day.  Don't  be  piggish,  Steve." 

The  man  scowled. 

"I  didn't  suppose  anybody  would  object  to  letting 
me  have  him  to-day,  and  that  is  why  I  took  him.  I 
see  you  are  afraid  of  being  beaten.  What  pony  did 
you  propose  to  let  me  have?" 

"Any  one  but  that  one.  I  did  think  of  riding 
Coffin  Head,  but  you  may  have  him." 

"Coffin  Head!  You  must  think  I'm  a  fool!  Why, 
that  old  cob  is  played  out,  and  I'd  be  a  perfect  guy 
on  him.  You  can't  work  that  on  me,  Ken." 

St.  Ives  was  angry.  He  showed  it  in  his  face 
and  voice. 

"I  don't  care  what  you  ride!  You  can  have  any- 
thing but  Liner." 

"And  I'll  have  Liner !"  flung  back  Fenton,  defiantly. 
"I've  got  him,  and  I'm  going  to  keep  him.  What  can 
you  do  about  it?  We'll  show  you  chaps  up  in  great 
shape." 

Then  he  started  the  pony  up,  and  rode  away  toward 
the  green. 

St.  Ives  seemed  about  to  follow  him. 

"I'll  make  him  give  that  pony  up !"  he  grated.  "He 
has  no  right  to  take  Liner !  If  he  doesn't  want  to  play, 
let  him  get  out." 


2io  Choice  of  Ponies. 

"I  wouldn't  have  any  trouble  with  him  about  it," 
said  Frank.  "If  you  do,  he'll  make  a  big  fuss  about 
our  being  scared.  Let's  look  at  the  other  ponies  first, 
anyway." 

After  a  few  moments  of  hesitation,  St.  Ives  led 
the  way  into  the  stable,  and  the  boys  looked  the  other 
ponies  over. 

One  of  them  was  a  homely  old  crock,  with  knees 
and  hocks  bunched  up  out  of  all  semblance  to  those 
built  on  strictly  anatomical  principles.  This  pony  at- 
tracted Merri well's  attention. 

"That  is  Coffin  Head,"  said  St  Ives. 

Instantly  an  inspiration  seized  Frank. 

"If  you  don't  mind,"  he  said,  "I'll  ride  Coffin 
Head." 

Kenneth  gasped. 

"You  can't  mean  it!"  he  exclaimed. 

"I  do,"  nodded  Merry.  "Somehow  I've  taken  a 
fancy  to  the  old  fellow.  You  say  he  has  been  a  good 
one?" 

"One  of  the  best." 

"Then  he  hasn't  forgotten  the  tricks  of  the  business. 
I'm  going  to  try  him." 

"The  boys  will  have  sport  with  you,  Merry,"  said 
Diamond. 

"Let  'em,"  smiled  Frank.  "I  may  get  as  much  sport 
out  of  it  as  they  do.  May  I  have  Coffin  Head,  St. 
Ives!" 

"Of  course  you  may  if  you  want  him,"  said  Ken- 
neth, "but  I'm  sorry  that " 

"Never  mind  it !"  came  gayly  from  Merriwell.  "Sad- 


Choice  of  Ponies.  2 1 1 

die  up  old  Coffin  Head  for  me,  boy,"  he  cried,  to  one  of 
the  assistant  hostlers.  "I'll  manage  to  take  some 
part  in  the  game.  Hurrah  for  Coffin  Head,  the  old- 
timer!  He  may  prove  a  surprise  party  for  some- 
body." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  FIRST  GO. 

Tang!  tang! 

It  was  the  timekeeper's  gong,  and  the  game  of  polo 
was  begun  with  a  charge. 

Each  team  had  lined  up  within  twenty  feet  of  their 
respective  goals,  and,  as  the  ball  was  dropped  in  center 
field,  the  little  ponies  tore  forward  like  blooded  racers. 

It  was  a  spectacle  to  send  the  blood  leaping  in  an 
instant 

For  all  that  the  game  had  been  hastily  gotten  up,  the 
boundary  line  was  crowded  with  the  elite  of  the  coun- 
tryside. It  seemed  as  if  people  had  risen  from  the 
ground. 

Merriwelr's  friends  were  all  together,  and,  with  the 
possible  exception  of  Browning,  they  were  keenly  in- 
terested. Bruce  was  stretched  out  in  a  lazy  position 
on  the  ground,  seemingly  as  apathetic  as  usual. 

Bart  Hodge's  dark  eyes  were  gleaming  and  his 
cheeks  glowing. 

"Oh,  if  I  could  have  taken  part  in  that!"  he  mut- 
tered. "I  don't  believe  Diamond  can  play  the  game  a 
bit  better  than  I  can." 

Bart  was  disappointed,  and  a  feeling  of  jealousy 
toward  Diamond  had  been  aroused  in  his  heart.  It 
began  to  seem  that  Frank  cared  too  much  for  Jack. 

"It's  queer,  too,"  thought  Hodge.     "Diamond  was 


The  First  Go.  213 

growling  all  the  time  while  we  were  in  the  West,  and 
he  made  the  rest  of  the  crowd  tired.  Merry  is  the 
only  one  who  has  had  any  patience  with  him;  but 
that's  just  like  Frank.  He's  mighty  queer,  and  I  don't 
understand  him  now,  for  all  that  I  have  known  him  so 
long." 

Kenneth  St.  Ives  was  captain  of  the  Springbrook 
side,  while  Paul  Stone  commanded  the  other  side. 

"Soy,"  cried  Mulloy,  "will  yez  take  a  look  at  thot 
ould  bob  Frankie  is  shtraddle  av!  Did  yez  ivver  see 
th'  loikes  av  thot?" 

"Gol  darned  ef  that  don't  look  jest  like  dad's  old 
plaow  hoss!"  laughed  Ephraim  Gallup.  "Ther  sight 
of  that  critter  makes  me  wish  I  was  to  hum  on  the 
farm.  I'm  humsick,  b'gosh!" 

Bruce  Browning  grunted  and  looked  disgusted. 

"Merry  must  be  a  fool  to  take  such  a  pony!"  he 
growled.  "They're  making  a  guy  of  him." 

"G'way  dar,  boy!"  muttered  Toots,  shaking  his 
head.  "Don't  yeh  beliebe  yehself !  Dey  don*  mek  no 
guy  ob  dat  boy  ver'  much." 

"Say,  Browning,"  cried  Rattleton,  excitedly,  "you 
ought  to  know  better  than  to  think  anybody  can  fake  a 
mool — I  mean  make  a  fool  of  Frank." 

"Yaw!"  nodded  Hans;  "I  oughter  known  petter  dan 
dot,  hand't  you?  Vot  do  I  take  you  for,  Frowning! 
Vere  you  peen  all  my  life,  ain'd  id?  You  don'd  fool 
Vrankie  Merrivell  haluf  so  much  as  I  think  you  can, 
you  pet  my  axidental  bolicy." 

In  the  opening  charge  Frank  did  not  get  in  quite  as 
quick  as  the  others.  Mounted  on  Liner,  Steve  Fenton 


214  The  First  Go. 

shot  down  on  the  ball,  and  with  a  skillful  crack,  sent 
it  skimming  toward  the  Springbrook  goal,  causing  a 
shout  to  go  up  from  the  spectators. 

"He'll  make  a  goal  for  Meadowfair,  in  less  than 
two Great  Scott!  how'd  the  boy  do  that?" 

Frank,  somewhat  behind  the  others,  had  caught  the 
ball  as  it  skimmed  like  a  bullet  over  the  ground,  even 
though  it  seemed  that  he  must  have  swung  his  mallet 
almost  at  the  same  instant  as  Fenton.  The  first  crack 
was  answered  by  a  second,  and  the  basswood  ball  sud- 
denly went  skimming  back  toward  the  Meadowfair 
side,  with  Diamond  racing  after  it  to  send  it  through. 

But  Liner  showed  his  mettle.  It  did  not  seem 
that  Fenton  paid  the  least  attention  to  the  pony,  but 
the  creature  twisted  about  in  a  moment,  and  carried 
its  rider  along  at  Diamond's  side. 

It  was  a  brief  but  most  exciting  race,  and  the  spec- 
tators cheered  and  waved  their  handkerchiefs. 

"Go  it,  Diamond,  old  boy!"  cried  Harry  Rattleton. 

"Go  id,  Shack,  oldt  poy!"  shouted  Hans,  hopping 
about  like  a  toad.  "You  vill  pet  on  my  head!" 

"Git  doawn  an'  crawl,  gol  darn  ye!"  whooped  Eph- 

raim.  "Naow  hit  her  a  knockaout  blow,  and 

Great  gosh!" 

In  a  most  skillful  manner  Fenton's  pony  had  forced 
Diamond's  mount  over,  and  the  dark-faced  man  swung 
across  in  time  to  get  a  crack  at  the  ball.  The  skill  with 
which  he  struck  it  told  that  he  was  the  most  dangerous 
player  on  the  Meadowfair  side. 

"Look  out  there,  Harden!"  cried  St.  Ives. 

Harry  stopped  the  ball,  but  it  caromed   from  his 


The  First  Go.  215 

mallet  and  came  near  going  out  of  bounds.  In  a  twin- 
kling there  was  another  hot  rush  and  a  threatened 
crash.  Immediately  all  the  players  were  clumped  about 
the  ball. 

"Where  are  you,  number  one?"  cried  Paul  Stone. 
"Strike,  Kimball — strike,  man!  What's  the  matter 
with  you?" 

For  some  moments  the  ball  "hung,"  and  the  players 
"dribbled" ;  but  they  were  cool,  and  Lock  made  a  neat 
and  quick  turn,  passing  the  ball  to  Fenton,  who  took 
it  up  and  hit  it  to  boundary. 

Over  the  board  went  the  ponies,  and  the  sticks 
crooked  as  they  tried  to  give  the  ball  a  fillip  outside. 
But  Diamond,  "half-back"  for  Springbrook,  saw  his 
opportunity,  made  a  rush  and  a  hard  backhander  on  the 
near  side,  and  out  shot  the  little  white  sphere  on 
its  way  to  glory. 

Merriwell  was  on  it,  as  if  he  had  been  waiting  for 
that  very  play.  His  stick,  which  he  had  selected  with 
great  care,  seemed  to  swing  free  for  a  moment  from 
the  strap  about  his  wrist,  then  the  malacca  did  its 
work. 

"Hooray!"  cried  Ephraim  Gallup.  "It's  a  goal 
sure!  Hooray!" 

"Yaw!"  screamed  Hans,  "id  peen  a  dandy!" 

"Outside!  outside!" 

"Who  says  outside?"  snapped  Rattleton.  'The 
referee?  I  know  better!  It's  a  goal  sure!" 

"Outside,  I  tell  you !"  came  the  voice  of  the  referee, 
and  the  game  stopped. 

It  was  a  disappointment  for  Frank's  friends,   for 


216  The  First  Go. 

they  had  felt  certain  he  would  make  a  goal,  but  the 
fairness  of  the  referee  was  not  to  be  questioned. 

The  captain  of  the  Meadowfairs  had  the  strike-off, 
and  the  Springbrooks  fell  back  from  the  line. 

But  Stone  was  cunning,  and  he  gave  the  ball  a  clever 
sweep  to  right  field,  and  away  from  his  goal.  His 
"forward"  knew  the  trick,  and  Liner  was  keyed  up  for 
a  race  to  boundary. 

But  Frank  had  seen  that  trick  before,  and  he  resolved 
to  find  out  what  sort  of  stuff  Coffin  Head  was  made 
of,  now  that  there  was  a  good  opportunity.  The  pony 
had  handled  himself  with  such  ease  and  skill,  for  all 
of  his  awkward  and  homely  appearance,  that  Merry 
was  more  than  delighted,  and  now  came  the  supreme 
test. 

Liner  flew  out  after  the  ball,  upon  which  Fenton's 
eyes  were  steadily  fastened.  But  Coffin  Head  was  in 
the  race,  and  the  old  crock  didn't  do  a  thing  but  spread 
himself.  The  way  he  tore  along  over  the  ground 
amazed  everybody  who  saw  it.  It  seemed  that  the 
old  horse  had  renewed  his  youth  and  was  out  for  blood. 
He  made  the  run  of  his  life  to  get  his  rider  on  that 
ball.  Like  a  meteor  he  flew  across  the  green,  and 
Liner  was  fairly  beaten,  causing  Frank  Merriwell's 
friends  and  admirers  to  rise  up  and  shout  with  aston- 
ishment and  delight. 

The  check  was  too  sudden,  however,  and  the  old 
pony  slid  on  his  haunches.  Then  up  rushed  a  mass 
of  men  and  ponies,  making  for  a  moment  a  wild 
melee. 

Kimball  got  a  crack  at  the  ball,  but  it  glanced  off 


The  First  Go.  217 

the  ribs  of  Harden's  pony,  causing  the  animal  to  wince 
and  swerve. 

That  let  in  Merriwell,  who  had  brought  Coffin  Head 
about,  and  he  made  a  skillful  stroke.  As  he  did  so, 
he  felt  something  whistle  past  his  head,  and  realized 
that  he  had  narrowly  escaped  a  blow  that  must  have 
spoiled  the  effectiveness  of  his  work. 

Frank  did  not  take  his  eyes  off  the  ball ;  but,  never- 
theless, he  saw  it  was  Fenton  who  had  attempted  the 
foul  stroke,  being  unable  to  reach  the  ball  himself. 

Diamond  went  down  on  the  sphere  with  a  rush,  and 
carried  it  along  toward  the  enemy's  posts.  With  a 
clean  lead  at  the  proper  moment,  the  Virginian,  whe 
had  already  showed  himself  a  perfect  horseman  and 
perfect  polo  player,  sent  the  white  ball  sailing  through 
the  timber,  and  Springbrook  had  made  the  first  goal. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE   END   OF   THE   GAME. 

Diamond  was  heartily  congratulated,  and  his  dark 
face  flushed  with  pleasure  over  his  success. 

"But  I  didn't  do  it  alone,"  he  declared.  "Merri- 
well  deserves  as  much  or  more  credit,  for  he  sent  it 
out  of  the  bunch,  and  gave  me  my  chance  at  it" 

"You  fellows  must  have  played  together  a  great 
deal,"  said  Harden.  "You  work  together  perfectly." 

Frank  laughed. 

"We  never  played  together  in  a  game  before,"  he 
said.  "I  didn't  know  Diamond  played  polo  till  a  short 
time  ago." 

"It's  remarkable!"  smiled  St.  Ives,  who  was  de- 
lighted over  the  work  of  his  team.  "And  old  Coffin 
Head  is  right  in  the  game." 

"You  bet!"  cried  Merry.  "He  is  an  old  dandy!  I 
wouldn't  swap  him  for  Liner  now !" 

"But  he  has  not  done  such  work  this  season.  He  is 
in  his  old-time  trim,  and  I  believe  two-thirds  of  it 
comes  from  his  rider." 

Diamond  touched  Frank's  arm,  and  drew  him  aside. 

"Say,  Frank,"  he  whispered,  "do  you  know  you 
came  near  getting  a  crack  over  the  head  ?" 

"Sure,"  nodded  our  hero. 

"Well,  take  my  advice  and  look  out  for  that  Fenton. 
1  saw  him  when  he  struck  at  you,  and  I  know  he  would 


The  End  of  the  Game.  219 

have  struck  just  as  quick  if  his  mallet  had  been  made 
of  iron." 

"I'll  watch  out  for  him,  Jack." 

"Do  it,  and  I'll  keep  my  eyes  open  myself." 

Lock  had  strained  his  side  twisting  in  the  saddle  for 
a  stroke,  and  a  fellow  by  the  name  of  Hawley  was 
substituted.  Kimball  and  Stone  both  rushed  to  the 
stable  to  change  ponies,  and  Hawley  called  for  another 
pony  in  the  place  of  the  one  Lock  had  ridden.  Of  the 
Meadowfairs,  Fenton  was  the  only  one  who  retained 
his  mount. 

Harden  was  the  only  Springbrook  man  who  made 
a  change.  His  pony  had  not  acted  satisfactorily,  al- 
though it  was  considered  a  fairly  good  animal.  But 
it  is  an  old  saying  that  "the  more  a  man  knows  about 
polo  ponies  the  less  he  knows  about  them,"  and  the 
paradox  is  an  indisputable  truth. 

Nearly  all  polo  ponies  are  Western  bred,  and  have 
broncho  blood  in  them.  A  broncho  is  unreliable  at  best. 
For  a  thousand  times  he  may  serve  you  perfectly,  and 
then,  when  you  least  expect  such  a  thing,  for  no  ap- 
parent reason,  he  may  prove  utterly  unreliable. 

Ponies  for  expert  players  must  have  lots  of  speed 
and  good  blood  in  them,  but  it  is  necessary  that  they 
should  be  tough  and  hard  to  injure. 

As  for  the  game  of  polo,  there  is  no  other  sport 
in  which  the  nervous  force,  cool  decision  and  quick 
judgment  of  man  are  coupled  to  such  an  extent  with 
the  natural  instincts  of  the  horse. 

Polo,  properly  played  by  man,  with  ponies  thor- 
oughly trained  and  keyed  up  to  the  highest  tension, 


22O  The  End  of  the  Game. 

is  a  game  which  possesses  just  danger  enough  to  make 
it  attractive  to  men  of  nerve.  It  requires  a  cool  head, 
quick  eye,  infinite  perseverance  and  marvelous  horse- 
manship. 

The  chief  qualifications  of  an  expert  polo  player  are 
the  ability  to  measure  distance  while  riding  at  top 
speed,  the  knowledge  when  and  where  to  race,  and  the 
judgment  and  skill  to  play  a  waiting  game  at  times. 
The  best  player  should  be  a  past  master  of  all  the 
strategies  and  tactics  of  a  cavalry  horseman. 

Besides  this,  it  requires  courage.  A  player  must 
have  the  kind  of  nerve  that  would  face  unflinchingly 
a  hand-to-hand  struggle  for  life  on  the  battlefield. 

The  friends  of  Frank  and  Jack  hastened  to  con- 
gratulate them,  with  the  exception  of  Browning  and 
Hodge.  The  former  was  too  lazy  to  exert  himself  so 
much,  and  the  latter  was  in  the  "dumps,"  as  the  sulky 
look  on  his  face  plainly  indicated. 

"Gol  darned  if  I  ever  saw  sich  a  crummy  lookin' 
hoss  as  that  what  could  git  araound  so  humpin'  lively !" 
declared  Ephraim  Gallup. 

"Yaw,  dut  bony  peen  lifely  as  a  pedpugs,"  nodded 
Hans.  "Vot  vould  you  take  for  him  uf  you  vant  to 
bought  him,  Vrankie?" 

"Merry,  me  b'y,"  put  in  the  Irish  lad,  "it's  a  lulu  ye 
are,  an'  Diamond  is  a  p'ache ;  but  it's  thot  spalpane  Fin- 
ton  ye  want  to  be  lookin'  afther  roight  sharrup,  fer  Oi 
saw  him  swat  at  yez." 

"Don't  worry,  Barney,"  said  Frank.  "I'll  keep 
watch  of  him." 

Iva  St.   Ives  chatted  with  Harry  Harden,  while, 


The  End  of  the  Game.  221 

from  a  distance,  Stephen  Fenton  chewed  his  dark 
mustache  and  watched  them  sullenly,  muttering  to 
himself. 

There  was  a  sudden  hurrying  out  from  the  stabie. 

"Time!" 

Bang! — sounded  the  gong,  and  once  more  the  game 
was  on. 

"Now  play,  boys!"  cried  Paul  Stone,  "We  won't 
waste  any  time.  Don't  fool  with  it !  Hit  it  hard !" 

Fenton  was  on  the  ball,  and  he  struck  it  as  if  an 
engine  was  back  of  him.  The  sphere  flew  over  the 
grass,  and  Liner  took  his  rider  in  hot  pursuit 

Harden  tried  to  get  in  at  the  ball,  but  was  cleverly 
hustled  by  Kimball.  It  seemed  plain  sailing.  The 
Meadow  fairs  were  going  at  it  with  a  rush,  and  it 
looked  like  a  goal  at  once. 

Another  hundred  feet,  and  then,  with  a  clever  stroke, 
Fenton  passed  the  ball  to  the  mallet  of  Hawley.  But 
Hawley's  stick  was  too  short  by  three  inches,  and  he 
missed  on  the  swing. 

Harden  was  making  a  hard  push  for  the  ball,  and 
Fenton,  who  was  following  it  up,  tried  to  crowd  him. 
They  came  along  side  by  side,  with  their  knees  jammed 
together  as  the  ponies  raced. 

Then — how  was  it  done  ?  Liner  seemed  to  stop  sud- 
denly, as  if  turned  to  stone,  and  Harden  was  ton; 
from  the  saddle  of  his  pony,  which  shot  on  without 
him.  He  fell  heavily  to  the  ground  in  the  very  track 
of  the  whole  mass  of  onrushing  ponies. 

A  scream  of  fear  broke  from  Iva  St.  Ives,  who  was 
watching  it  all,  for  it  seemed  that  Harden  was  doomed 


222  The  End  of  the  Game. 

to  be  severely  injured  beneath  the  hoofs  of  the  ponies 
— perhaps  killed. 

Frank  was  slightly  in  advance  of  the  others,  and, 
:uick  as  thought,  he  leaned  far  over  to  one  side,  like 
a.  cowboy,  and  his  hand  fastened  on  the  belt  of  the 
fallen  player. 

Harden  was  too  heavy  for  Merriwell  to  swing  back 
into  the  saddle,  but  he  carried  the  young  man  along  till 
the  other  players  could  swerve  aside,  and  he  did  not 
drop  him  till  he  could  stop  Coffin  Head. 

In  a  moment  Harden  was  on  his  feet,  and,  as  he 
sprang  up,  the  spectators  broke  into  loud  cheers. 

"Thank  you,  Merriwell!"  exclaimed  the  man  Frank 
had  thus  cleverly  saved  by  a  cowboy  trick.  "I  won't 
forget  that." 

Then  he  darted  away  after  his  pony,  apparently  un- 
injured. 

"I  know  it  was  a  foul  trick  that  flung  him  from  the 
saddle,"  thought  Frank.  "I  wonder  why  the  referee 
doesn't  declare  a  foul?  Is  there  some  kind  of  a  job 
in  this?" 

Then  a  shout  came  from  his  lips  as  he  awoke  to  the 
fact  that  the  game  was  still  on,  and  Diamond  had 
cleverly  prevented  Fenton  from  making  a  goal. 

Coffin  Head  was  away  after  the  ball  almost  before 
the  shout  came  from  Frank's  lips.  As  if  nothing  of 
an  unusual  nature  had  happened,  the  game  continued. 

Hawley  tried  to  cut  Merriwell  off  from  the  ball, 
but  old  Coffin  Head  would  not  have  it,  and  Frank  got 
in  a  crack  that  made  the  spectators  shout  with  delight. 
,    Then   Kimball   shot   across   ahead   of   Frank,    and 


The  End  of  the  Game.  223 

Kenneth  St.  Ives  found  a  chance  to  carry  the  ball 
down  the  field,  but  broke  his  stick  trying  to  strike  a 
goal,  and  was  forced  to  ride  out  of  bounds  for  another 
mallet. 

Luckily  for  Springbrook,  Diamond  was  playing  the 
game  of  his  life.  He  came  down  and  drove  the  ball 
from  under  the  nose  of  Kimball's  pony,  making  another 
goal  just  as  the  first  half  closed. 

Then  came  a  rest  of  ten  minutes,  during  which  the 
ponies  were  rubbed  down  and  the  perspiring  but  en- 
thusiastic players  secured  a  respite. 

Frank  was  quickly  surrounded  by  an  admiring 
throng.  Pretty  girls  crowded  about  him,  and  sought 
an  introduction,  and  men  came  up  and  felt  of  his 
arms,  expressing  their  amazement  that  he  should  have 
been  able  to  rescue  Harden  from  beneath  the  feet  of 
the  charging  ponies. 

This  was  all  very  embarrassing  for  him,  and  he 
sought  to  get  away.  As  soon  as  possible,  he  joined 
his  friends,  but  they  were  ready  with  congratulations. 

"It  must  have  been  tough,  don't  you  know,"  yawned 
Browning;  "but  it  was  clever,  Merrrwell — confounded 
clever." 

"It  was  a  dandy  trick !"  cried  Harry  Rattleton,  bub- 
bling with  enthusiasm  and  admiration.  "What'll  the 
fellows  at  Old  Yale  say  when  they  hear  of  your  cowboy 
trick,  Merry?" 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  tell  them  about  it!"  ex- 
claimed Frank.  "What  is  there  to  make  such  a  fuss 
over?" 

"Gol  darned  if  I  don't  think  that  feller  was  throwed 


224  The  End  of  the  Game. 

off  his  boss  by  Fenton!"  put  in  Ephraim.  "I  couldn't 
see  just  haow  the  trick  was  done,  but  I  bet  four  dozen 
aigs  it  was  done  somehow." 

On  this  point  Frank  was  silent. 

Soon  the  gong  sounded  again,  and  the  play  was  on 
once  more.  The  Meadow  fair  men  seemed  desperate, 
and  they  fought  like  tigers.  Three  times  within  as 
many  minutes  the  ball  was  forced  down  so  near  the 
Springbrook  goal  posts  that  a  clever  strike  would  have 
made  a  goal,  and  three  times,  mounted  on  old  Coffin 
Head,  Frank  Merriwell  sent  it  back  into  the  center  of 
the  field. 

On  the  third  trip,  Kenneth  St.  Ives  got  in  a  clever 
stroke  and  passed  it  to  Diamond,  who  had  been  playing 
a  waiting  game.  Jack  saw  his  chance,  and  he  rushed 
it  for  the  Meadowfair  posts. 

Fenton  charged  on  Jack  like  a  whirlwind,  but  made  a 
miss  stroke,  and  the  Virginian  rushed  the  white  sphere 
down  through  the  posts,  making  another  goal  for 
Springbrook. 

Two  minutes'  rest  followed,  and  then  the  ball  was 
put  in  again. 

The  face  of  Stephen  Fenton  was  dark  with  anger, 
and  he  played  as  if  possessed  by  a  fiend.  But  all  his 
work  was  vain,  for  Springbrook  made  three  goals  in 
the  last  half,  and  the  game  closed  with  a  complete  white- 
wash for  Meadowfair. 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

BEFORE      THE      HUNT. 

"I  believe  there  will  be  a  frost  to-morrow  morning,** 
declared  Kenneth  St.  Ives,  as  the  boys  were  gathered 
in  the  summerhouse  that  evening.  "It  has  turned  very 
cold  within  an  hour,  and  there  is  not  a  breath  of  wind. 
If  there  is  a  frost  look  out  for  sport." 

"What  sort  of  sport?"  eagerly  asked  Harry  Rattle- 
ton.  "Something  we  can  all  take  part  in?" 

"Sure." 

"Name  it." 

"Fox  hunt." 

"Jupiter!    That  will  be  great." 

"We've  got  as  fine  a  pack  of  hounds  as  can  be  found 
in  this  part  of  the  country,  although  it  is  not  a  large 
pack,"  said  Kenneth  ;  "and  we  have  the  foxes.  Every 
one  of  you  fellows  who  can  ride  may  take  part  in  the 
hunt." 

"I'm  pretty  sure  I  shall  have  another  chill  to-mor- 
row," mumbled  Browning.  "I  wouldn't  dare  start  out 
on  a  hunt." 

"Rats!"   cried   Rattleton.     "The  trouble  with   you 


"Let  Browning  stay  behind  and  take  things  easy," 
said  Hodge,  quickly.  "The  rest  of  us  can  go.  For 
real  sport,  give  me  a  fox  hunt." 


226  Before  the  Hunt. 

"Yaw !"  nodded  Hans ;  "dot  peen  der  short  vor  you, 
hoch.  I  peen  britty  coot  at  dot." 

"Hev  yeou  got  guns  for  ther  hull  on  us?"  asked 
Ephraim. 

"Guns?"  cried  Kenneth,  astonished. 

"Yeh." 

"What  do  you  want  of  guns?" 

"Why,  to  shoot  the  gol  darn  fox  with,  of  course!" 

"But  what  do  you  want  to  shoot  him  for  ?" 

"Hey!"  gasped  the  astonished  Vermonter.  "Haow 
be  yeou  goin'  to  hunt  him  if  yeou  don't  shoot  him?" 

"Why,  we  hunt  foxes  on  horses,  and  let  the  dogs 
run  them  down." 

"An'  don't  do  nary  bit  of  shootin'  ?" 

"No." 

"Wai,  that's  what  I  call  a  mighty  slim  sort  of  a 
hunt,"  declared  Gallup,  in  disgust.  "Yeou  oughter 
see  Win  Page  hunt  foxes  daown  hum.  Give  that 
feller  one  ddrg  an'  a  good  gun,  and  he'll  go  out  'most 
any  mornin'  an'  gather  in  two  or  three  of  the  critters 
afore  breakfast.  He  keeps  the  door  of  his  barn  all 
nailed  over  with  fox  skins,  an'  skunk  skins,  an'  musk- 
rats,  an'  he  kin  set  araound  the  grocery  store  an'  tell 
huntin'  stories  fer  a  week  at  a  time  'thout  stoppin'  to 
eat  ur  ketch  his  breath." 

"It  is  evident  that  Mr.  Page  hunts  foxes  in  a  dif- 
ferent way  and  for  a  different  purpose  than  we  do," 
smiled  Kenneth. 

Then  Frank  briefly  explained  to  Ephraim  the  style 
of  hunting  foxes  on  horseback  for  sport,  but  Gallup  did 


Before  the  Hunt  227 

not  seem  to  think  there  could  be  much  sport  in  it  that 
way. 

"I'm  sorry  father  had  to  fire  Wade,  the  head  hostler, 
to-night,"  said  St  Ives. 

"Had  to  fire  him?"  questioned  Frank.  "What 
for?" 

"He  was  drunk  and  insolent.  But  he  knows  more 
about  taking  charge  of  a  stable  than  any  man  I  ever 
saw,  and  he  kept  our  hunters  in  fine  condition.  He 
has  been  drinking  too  much  lately,  however,  and  he 
was  getting  intolerable.  By  the  way,  Merriwell,  you 
had  better  look  out  for  him." 

"Why— how  is  that?" 

"He  seemed  to  think  you  were  the  cause  of  his  dis- 
missal, and  he  said  he  would  'make  it  all  right.'  He's 
got  a  bad  temper  when  he's  boozing." 

"Why,  I  didn't  say  anything  to  your  father  about 
Wade." 

"I  know  it,  but  I  told  father  about  your  trouble  with 
him,  and  it  is  possible  that's  why  father  was  so  ready 
to  get  rid  of  the  fellow.  Father  insists  that  his  guests 
shall  be  treated  properly  by  everybody  connected  with 
the  place." 

"If  Mr.  Wade  knows  what's  good  for  him,  he'll 
let  Merry  alone,"  declared  Rattleton. 

"He  may  not  be  seen  around  here  again,"  said  Ken- 
neth. "Father  told  him  to  get  away  and  stay  away." 

The  boys  discussed  the  prospect  of  a  hunt  and  grew 
very  enthusiastic  over  it,  with  the  exception  of  Brown- 
ing. Hodge  was  aroused,  for  he  fancied  he  saw  his 


228  Before  the  Hunt. 

opportunity  of  making  evident  the  fact  that  he  was 
quite  as  good  a  horseman  as  Diamond,  whom  he  could 
not  help  envying  for  the  glory  he  had  won  at  polo. 

Bart  had  not  been  able  to  change  his  nature,  and 
so  he  frequently  was  jealous  of  others,  although  he 
tried  to  suppress  and  conceal  the  fact,  and,  when  he 
considered  it  in  cold  blood,  he  was  always  disgusted 
with  himself. 

Kenneth  said  the  visitors  at  the  house,  those  who 
had  arrived  that  day  and  remained  there,  had  been 
talking  of  a  hunt,  but  it  was  not  thought  probable 
there  would  be  an  opportunity  thus  early  in  the  season. 
The  cold  turn  would  be  sure  to  arouse  their  expecta- 
tions, however,  and  he  would  see  that  they  were  pre- 
pared for  what  might  happen  in  the  morning. 

"I'll  guarantee  a  mount  for  every  one  who  cares  to 
go,"  he  said;  "so  don't  any  one  worry  about  getting 
left." 

The  prospect  of  such  sport  seemed  to  revive  Hodge, 
and  he  challenged  Rattleton  to  a  game  of  billiards, 
which  challenge  was  promptly  accepted. 

St.  Ives  rang  the  bell  for  a  colored  boy,  who  lighted 
up  the  billiard-room,  and  soon  Bart  and  Harry  were 
at  it,  while  the  others  lay  around  and  looked  on. 

St.  Ives  motioned  to  Frank  and  Jack. 

"You  fellows  come  with  me,"  he  said.  "I've  some- 
thing to  show  you." 

They  followed,  and  he  took  them  out  to  the  huge 
dog  kennel,  which  was  a  house  by  itself,  located  under 
the  trees  bv  tb*  stables.  Their  approach  aroused  the 


Before  the  Hunt.  229 

dogs,  but  the  sound  of  St.  Ives'  voice  quieted  them, 
and  the  boys  entered.  Kenneth  lighted  two  lamps, 
while  the  dogs  frolicked  around  him. 

"Down,  Bruiser — down!"  he  ordered.  "Off  Pirate! 
Away,  Madge — get  out!" 

The  dogs  obeyed  him  reluctantly. 

"There,  fellows,"  he  cried,  proudly,  "what  do  you 
think  of  them?  I  say  they  are  all  right,  and  they 
are  dying  for  a  run.  I  reckon  they  will  get  it  in  the 
morning." 

Frank  and  Jack  looked  the  dogs  over  critically. 
Diamond's  eyes  gleamed  and  he  called  Pirate  to  his 
feet. 

"Here  is  the  old  dandy  for  any  sum !"  cried  the  Vir- 
ginian. "That  dog  will  be  in  at  the  death  if  he  can 
keep  a  foot  under  him." 

Kenneth  nodded. 

"Pirate  is  a  great  hunter,"  he  said;  "but  he  doesn't 
run  away  from  Madge  very  often." 

For  half  an  hour  they  looked  the  dogs  over,  and 
then  left  the  kennel. 

"Ill  have  to  go  into  the  house,  and  see  what  the 
others  think  about  it,"  said  St.  Ives.  "Won't  you 
come  in,  fellows?" 

"No,"  said  Diamond ;  "I  am  too  tired." 

"I'm  tired  myself,"  confessed  Frank.  "I  think 
we'll  roll  into  our  beds  very  soon." 

The  boys  strolled  down  past  the  summerhouse, 
while  Kenneth  went  into  the  mansion.  Through  a 
window  Frank  and  Jack  could  see  the  billiard  players 


Before  the  Hunt. 

at  work,  and  they  heard  Rattleton  shout  with  laughter 
at  some  fluke  Hodge  made. 

"It  strikes  me  this  is  the  last  round  of  sport  before 
we  get  back  to  the  grind,"  said  Jack. 

"Yes,"  said  Frank,  somewhat  sadly;  "we've  had  our 
summer's  whirl,  and  it's  over ;  but  it  was  fun  while  it 
lasted." 

Arm  in  arm,  they  walked  down  through  the  garden. 
They  did  not  take  the  gravel  path,  but  kept  on  the 
grass.  Their  feet  made  no  noise,  and  they  were  silent, 
as  both  were  thinking  of  their  varied  adventures  since 
starting  westward  on  the  bicycle  tour. 

All  at  once  they  heard  voices,  and  stopped  sud- 
denly. 

"Catch  your  chance,  Bill.  A  hundred  for  the  boy 
and  two  hundred  for  the  man.  You  do  not  like  either 
of  them,  so " 

"Like  'em!  Cuss  'em,  I  hate  'em!  I'll  do  it  if  I  git 
a  good  chance." 

"That  is  settled,  then.  You'd  better  get  away  from 
here,  for  you  don't  want  to  be  seen.  Good-night" 

"Good-night." 

Frank  leaped  toward  the  bushes  beyond  which  the 
voices  sounded.  They  were  thick,  and  he  broke 
through  with  difficulty.  When  he  reached  the  other 
side,  he  could  hear  the  sound  of  running  feet  in  dull 
retreat,  but  both  men  were  gone. 

Frank  started  in  pursuit,  but  the  ones  who  were 
running  away  seemed  to  know  the  turns  of  the  garden 
walks  better  than  he  did,  for  both  got  away. 

Diamond  found  Merriwell  near  the  summerhouse^ 


Before  the  Hunt.  231 

chewing  his  lip  and  standing  in  an  attitude  that  ex- 
pressed mingled  rage  and  disgust. 

"Didn't  catch  either  of  them,  did  you?"  asked  Jack. 

"No,"  was  the  answer;  "but  I  think  I  know  them 
both.  They  were  the  discharged  hostler  and  Steve 
Fenton,  or  I'm  daffy." 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 

THE  HUNT. 

"Hark  away!" 

The  sound  of  baying  hounds  and  the  hunter's  horn 
cut  the  crisp  morning  air. 

"The  dogs  have  struck  a  track !"  gayly  cried  Frank, 
who  was  mounted  on  Firefoot,  having  chosen  that 
horse,  although  warned  that  he  was  the  most  dangerous 
animal  in  the  Springbrook  stables.  "Listen  to  that! 
Is  it  not  music  to  stir  the  blood?" 

The  baying  of  the  hounds  grew  more  and  more  dis- 
tinct, and  surely  it  was  sweet  music  to  the  ear  of  the 
enthusiastic  hunter.  Rising,  falling,  now  loud  and 
clear,  now  faint  and  low,  the  mellow  notes  came  across 
the  meadows. 

"They're  coming  this  way!"  cried  Diamond,  excit- 
edly, as  his  mount  pricked  up  its  ears  and  pawed  the 
ground,  plainly  longing  to  be  off  after  the  baying  dogs. 
"Come,  Frank!" 

"Shimminy  Christmas!"  gurgled  Hans  Dunnerwust, 
who  was  astride  an  old  steed.  "You  don'd  pelief  dese 
boss  vos  bound  to  run  avay  mit  myseluf,  do  I  ?" 

"I  don't  think  ye  need  ter  worry  abaout  that," 
grinned  Ephraim  Gallup. 

"I  make  you  feel  petter  ven  you  said  dot,"  declared 
the  Dutch  boy.  "I  peen  avraidt  I  might  run  avay  mit 
dese  hosses  und  throw  heem  off." 


The  Hunt.  233 

"It's  a  warm  scent,  fellows !"  palpitated  Bart  Hodge, 
who  was  a-quiver  with  excitement.  "Oh,  this  morn- 
ing will  be  rilled  with  glory !" 

"I  thought  you  fellows  would  enjoy  it,"  said  Ken- 
neth St.  Ives,  who  was  with  Frank  and  his  friends, 
the  hunters  having  split  into  two  parties.  "I  want  you 
to  enjoy  all  the  time  you  spend  at  Springbrook." 

"There's  the  horn  again!"  fluttered  Diamond;  "and 
there  they  come!  It's  a  signal  to  us.  Look!  look! 
look!" 

Out  from  a  bit  of  scattering  timber  far  across  the 
meadows  broke  the  hounds,  the  foremost  running  nose 
to  the  ground,  the  others  following  close,  but  often 
baying  with  uplifted  muzzles.  As  the  dogs  had  just 
struck  the  track,  the  hunters  were  close  after  them, 
and  the  bright  colors  of  their  clothing  showed  through 
the  trees  almost  before  the  dogs  appeared,  rising  and 
falling  with  the  movements  of  their  galloping  horses. 

"Harden  is  in  the  lead!"  cried  Kenneth  St.  Ives, 
"and  Fenton  is  a  close  second.  Look — look,  fellows! 
The  third  one  is  my  sister!  Doesn't  she  ride  beau- 
tifully! Oh,  she  is  as  good  as  the  best  of  them!  I'll 
wager  a  sawbuck  she  leads  both  Fenton  and  Harden 
before  the  chase  is  over,  and  she  is  sure  to  be  in  at  the 
death." 

"That's  a  habit  I  have  myself/'  smiled  Frank  Mer- 
riwell;  "and  I  shall  make  an  attempt  to  be  in  at  the 
death  this  morning." 

"Firefoot  will  balk  on  you  before  you  are  through 
with  him,"  declared  Kenneth.  "He's  got  speed  and 
blood,  hut  bf*  is  treacherous" 


2H  The  Hunt. 

"I  don't  believe  he  will  play  any  tricks  on  me,"  said 
Frank.  "I  do  not  believe  he  has  been  handled  right. 
Your  hostler,  Wade,  had  a  grudge  against  the  horse, 
and  Fenton  didn't  know  how  to  treat  him.  But  this 
is  no  time  to  talk  of  that.  See — the  dogs  take  that 
hedge !  Hurrah !  See  Harden  follow !  What  a  glori- 
ous sight!  Hurrah!  hurrah!" 

The  boys  could  not  repress  their  cheers.  The  horses 
they  bestrode  were  dancing  now,  but  the  animals  were 
held  in  check  yet  a  little  longer,  and  then,  with  a  cry  to 
the  others,  Frank  gave  Firefoot  his  head. 

Down  toward  the  hunters  charged  the  second  party, 
riding  to  join  them.  They  were  seen,  and  Harden  set 
the  horn  to  his  lips  and  blew  a  welcome. 

Ta-ra,  ta-ra,  ta-ra-tar! 

How  the  bugle  note  cuts  the  frosty  air!  It  is 
enough  to  stir  the  blood  in  the  veins  of  a  sluggard. 

The  horses  cannot  be  held  in  check.  Oh,  the  glori- 
ous excitement  of  the  mad  ride — the  delight  of  speed! 
Whip  nor  spur  is  not  needed,  and  like  birds  they  go 
across  small  washouts,  down  into  a  tiny  ravine,  and 
then  up  again  with  short,  sharp  jerks. 

"Ou-oo!  ou-oo!  ou-oo!" 

It  is  the  baying  of  the  hounds,  the  whole  pack  burst- 
ing into  a  grand  swell  of  melody.  Who  would  not  rise 
early  to  hear  such  a  morning  chant ! 

The  fox — there  he  goes!  He  is  a  red  fellow,  fine 
and  large,  good  for  many  a  mile.  He  seems  to  run 
with  his  legs  stretched  straight  and  his  body  almost 
touching  the  ground,  while  his  brush  is  defiantly  erect. 

"This  is  indeed  sport!"  thought  Frank  Merriwell. 


The  Hunt.  235 

"And,  barring  accidents,  Firefoot  will  bring  me  in  at 
the  death." 

"Hi!  hi!  hi!" 

The  fox  came  to  a  fence.  Under  it  he  went.  A 
moment  later  the  hounds  reached  the  fence,  Pirate  in 
the  lead.  Over  they  went  in  a  stream,  as  pretty  a  spec- 
tacle as  one  could  ask  to  see. 

Firefoot  swept  along  like  a  meteor.  Frank  could 
have  cut  ahead  of  Harden,  but  he  knew  better  than  to 
do  such  a  thing.  He  fell  behind  the  bugler,  but  ahead 
of  Fenton.  The  others  of  his  party  were  farther  back. 

The  fence  was  reached,  and  Harden  cleared  it  beau- 
tifully, without  seeking  for  an  easy  spot.  Frank  fol- 
lowed, and  Firefoot  sailed  over  the  obstruction  like  a 
bird. 

"Good  boy!"  laughed  Merry.  "You're  all  right! 
I'd  like  to  own  you!" 

A  strong  feeling  of  affection  for  the  horse  sprang 
up  in  his  breast.  He  touched  Firefoot's  neck  with  a 
caressing  hand. 

Now  came  some  scrub  timber,  and  through  it  darted 
the  fox,  with  the  hounds  plunging  at  its  heels.  Harden 
did  not  swerve,  but  held  straight  on  the  track.  Frank 
followed. 

Limbs  were  dodged,  bushes  slapped  him  in  the  face, 
and  vines  tried  to  drag  him  from  the  saddle;  but  he 
did  not  draw  rein.  Straight  on  he  kept,  and  soon  the 
small  timber  was  behind. 

A  road  was  reached  and  crossed.  Ahead  was  a 
field  that  sloped  gradually,  presenting  a  full  view  of 


236  The  Hunt. 

the  chase.  Still  the  fox  was  running  speedily,  holding 
its  own  with  the  dogs. 

"Ou-oo!  ou-oo!  ou-oo!" 

Again  and  again  the  entire  pack  gave  tongue.  An 
old  farmer  on  his  way  to  market,  stopped  his  cart  on 
the  road,  stood  up,  waved  his  hat  about  his  head,  and 
cheered  like  a  boy. 

Once  Frank  looked  back. 

"Jove!"  he  exclaimed. 

Almost  neck  and  neck,  Steve  Fenton  and  Iva  St. 
Ives  were  following  him.  It  was  plain  that  the  girl 
was  riding  with  as  much  reckless  abandon  as  the  best 
of  them.  It  was  not  an  easy  thing  for  her  dark-faced 
cousin  to  hold  his  own  with  her. 

"She  is  a  queen!"  muttered  Frank,  as  he  once  more 
gave  his  attention  to  the  chase.  "I  don't  wonder  that 
Harden  is  stuck  on  her.  And  he  appears  like  a  fine 
fellow.  I  hope  he  wins  her." 

The  fox  had  darted  under  another  fence,  and  again 
the  dogs  were  streaming  over.  Harden  followed  close, 
seeking  no  favors.  His  horse  cleared  the  fence,  and 
onward  he  went. 

"Firefoot,  old  boy,"  laughed  Frank,  "you  can  follow 
him  anywhere  he  goes." 

Straight  at  the  fence  he  charged.  Firefoot  lifted  to 
the  couch,  settling  on  his  haunches,  then  going  up  into 
the  air. 

Just  then,  from  some  unknown  point,  a  shot  rang 
out,  and  the  black  horse  pitched  forward.  Its  forward 
feet  struck  the  rail,  and  Frank  was  flung-  headlong1. 


The  Hunt.  237 

Firefoot  came  down  with  a  crash,  and  lay  still,  a 
bullet  in  his  brain! 

And  just  beyond  the  fallen  horse  Frank  was  curled 
in  a  heap  upon  the  hard  ground! 

But  Frank  did  not  lie  thus  a  great  while.  As  he 
was  getting  upon  his  feet,  rubbing  his  arm  and  shoul- 
der, he  saw  Iva  St.  Ives  and  Stephen  Fenton  come  over 
the  fence.  And  Fenton  jumped  his  horse  almost  in 
the  track  of  the  boy  who  had  been  in  advance,  al- 
though he  must  have  seen  that  an  accident  of  some  sort 
had  happened. 

One  glimpse  of  Fenton's  face  did  Frank  obtain,  and 
he  knew  the  man  had  hoped  to  maim  or  kill  him. 
Barely  was  he  able  to  leap  aside  and  escape  from  be- 
neath the  feet  of  the  horse  Fenton  bestrode. 

Iva  St.  Ives  would  have  reined  about,  but  Frank  mo- 
tioned for  her  to  keep  on,  shouting: 

"Don't  stop  for  me!  I'm  all  right!  I'll  be  in  at  the 
death!" 

The  other  hunters  cheered  him,  while  Fenton  and 
the  girl  went  on  without  stopping. 

Frank  knew  a  shot  had  been  fired.  He  stooped  over 
Firefoot,  and  a  glance  showed  him  the  horse  was  dead. 
From  a  bullet  hole  in  the  animal's  head  blood  was 
welling. 

"I  knew  it!"  muttered  the  boy,  his  face  hard  and 
set.  "I  saw  the  puff  of  smoke  even  as  I  fell.  It  came 
from  those  bushes  yonder." 

Toward  the  bushes  he  ran,  paying  no  heed  to  those 
who  called  to  him.  He  was  on  a  fresh  scent,  and  he 
kept  rep«atinep  over  and  over : 


238  The  Hunt. 

"I'll  be  in  at  the  death— in  at  the  death !" 

Into  the  bushes  he  plunged,  regardless  of  the  fact 
that  he  did  not  know  but  the  would-be  assassin  was 
still  crouching  there.  He  was  ready  for  anything  he 
might  meet. 

The  clump  of  bushes  was  small;  the  ground  was 
moist.  He  looked  around,  then  stooped  and  examined 
the  ground.  Yes,  this  was  the  very  spot !  Here  were 
the  footprints  of  a  man,  and  here  he  had  kneeled  upon 
one  knee  as  he  took  aim  when  the  shot  was  fired. 
Without  doubt  he  had  rested  the  gun  in  the  crotch  of 
a  sapling  that  was  just  the  right  height.  A  slight 
abrasion  in  the  bark  of  the  sapling  told  Merriwell  he 
was  right. 

But  whither  had  the  wretch  gone?  Frank  looked 
around,  he  forced  himself  through  the  bushes.  There 
were  the  tracks. 

A  valley  lay  below.  Away  to  the  west  the  baying  of 
the  hounds  sounded  fainter  and  fainter.  Through  the 
valley  ran  a  small  stream.  There  was  some  timber, 
and  into  the  thickest  of  this  a  horseman  was  vanishing. 
Something  in  his  hands  looked  like  a  gun. 

"There's  my  game,"  cried  Frank.  "I'd  give  some- 
thing for  a  good  horse Jupiter!" 

A  horse  was  feeding  in  a  pasture  at  a  distance.  It 
looked  like  a  fairly  good  animal. 

A  moment  later  Frank  was  running  back  toward 
the  spot  where  the  dead  black  horse  lay  under  the 
fence.  Two  or  three  of  his  friends  were  there.  He 
gave  no  heed  to  them,  but,  with  feverish  haste,  he 
Stripped  the  bridle  from  the  dead  animal. 


The  Hunt.  239 

"What's  up,  Merry?"  asked  Rattleton,  excitedly. 

"Who  did  it,  anyway?  and  what  are  you See 

him  go !" 

But  Frank  stopped  suddenly  and  wheeled  about. 

tel  want  that  horse,  Rattleton !"  he  cried.  "There's 
one  over  yonder  you  may  take,  if  you  want  to  bother 
to  saddle  and  bridle  him.  I  can't  spare  the  time  to 
catch  him." 

Harry  tried  to  ask  further  questions,  but  not  a  word 
would  Frank  reply.  He  pulled  Rattleton  from  the  sad- 
dle, and  sprang  up  himself.  Then  he  gave  the  animal 
the  spur  and  was  away. 

Frank  did  not  glance  over  his  shoulder  to  see  if 
the  others  were  following.  He  thought  of  nothing 
but  the  human  game  he  was  after.  Would  the  wretch 
secure  such  a  start  that  it  would  not  be  possible  to  over- 
take him  ? 

"No !"  came  through  Frank's  set  teeth.  "I  will  run 
him  down!" 

Round  the  clump  of  bushes  he  guided  the  horse,  and 
then  cut  down  through  the  valley  toward  the  spot 
where  he  had  seen  the  unknown  horseman  riding  into 
the  timber. 

Over  the  stream  leaped  the  horse,  up  the  slope  he 
galloped,  and  the  timber  was  reached.  Then  Frank 
found  the  very  spot  where  the  man's  horse  had  been 
hidden,  and  he  struck  the  trail  of  the  murderous- 
minded  rascal. 

Now,  Eastern  boy  and  Yale  student  though  he  was, 
Frank  Merriwell  had  followed  at  the  heels  of  the  best 
trailers  in  this  country.  He  had  seen  them  work,  and 


240  The  Hunt. 

he  had  studied  their  methods,  becoming  a  fairly 
expert  trailer  himself. 

At  first  what  he  discovered  puzzled  him.  The  tracks 
of  the  horse  showed  quite  plainly  on  the  soft  ground, 
but  the  marks  of  the  shoes  did  not  seem  to  indicate  that 
the  animal  had  gone  toward  the  timber. 

"I  saw  him!"  muttered  Frank.  "It  was  no  optical 
delusion." 

Then  he  got  down  on  his  knees,  holding  on  to  the 
bridle  of  his  horse,  and  examined  the  tracks  still  more 
closely.  An  exclamation  broke  from  his  lips. 

"Queer  horse  that !  Never  heard  of  a  horse  walking 
on  his  heels  before!" 

A  moment  later  he  sprang  into  the  saddle  and  was 
away,  but  he  was  riding  in  a  direction  precisely  op- 
posite that  which  it  seemed  the  horse  had  gone! 

Into  the  timber  Frank  plunged.  It  was  not  a  very 
wide  strip,  and  he  soon  passed  through  it.  On  the 
farther  side  he  found  the  tracks  again.  The  shoes  of 
the  horse  pointed  to  the  north,  but  Frank  Merriwell 
rode  to  the  south. 

The  other  boys  had  paused  to  help  Rattleton  catch 
the  horse  in  the  pasture,  so  they  were  unable  to  follow 
Frank  closely. 

Ahead  of  Merriwell,  beyond  a  field,  lay  a  road.  He 
made  straight  for  a  gap  in  the  fence,  and  there  he  found 
the  horse  had  passed  through,  apparently  having  turned 
from  the  road  and  taken  to  the  field  at  that  point, 
judging  by  the  direction  in  which  the  shoes  pointed. 

Frank  took  to  the  road,  gave  his  horse  the  spur,  and 
tore  along-  till  he  came  around  a  bend.  Nearly  a  mile 


The  Hunt.  241 

away  a  horseman  was  just  leaving  the  road  and  taking 
to  the  fields.  He  carried  a  rifle  in  his  hands. 

"You're  my  game  for  a  cool  thousand !"  thought  the 
boy,  triumphantly;  "and  I  believe  you  have  handi- 
capped yourself  by  the  trick  you  have  tried  to  play." 

He  rode  in  hot  pursuit,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
the  man  discovered  he  was  followed.  Then  the  un- 
known showed  guilt,  for  he  whipped  up  his  horse  and 
tried  to  run  away. 

"I'll  kill  this  horse  before  you  shall  do  it!"  grated 
Merriwell. 

It  was  a  hunt  by  sight  now,  with  the  fugitive  making 
for  a  long  strip  of  timber  between  some  hills.  Frank 
felt  that  the  man  stood  a  good  chance  of  escaping  if  he 
got  into  those  woods. 

A  fence  lay  before  the  man  in  advance.  It  was  a 
high,  zigzag  affair.  Without  seeking  an  opening,  he 
made  straight  for  it. 

Frank  was  watching.  He  saw  the  horse  try  to 
clear  the  fence,  saw  the  animal  strike,  saw  the  man  and 
beast  go  down. 

"Hurrah!"  shouted  the  boy.     "That's  a  check!" 

But  neither  the  man  nor  horse  got  up.  Both 
were  hidden  beyond  the  bushes  that  grew  along  the 
base  of  the  fence. 

Before  long  Frank  was  close  to  that  fence,  and  he 
was  lying  flat  on  the  back  of  his  horse,  half  expecting 
the  one  he  was  pursuing  was  crouching  behind  the 
bushes,  ready  to  stop  the  pursuit  with  a  second  shot. 

With  his  usual  reckless  disregard  of  consequences 


242  The  Hunt 

in  times  of  great  danger,  Merriwell  rode  at  the  fence, 
rose  in  the  saddle,  and  jumped  his  horse  over. 

Man  and  horse  lay  under  the  bushes.  The  latter 
lifted  his  head  and  struggled  to  rise,  but  fell  back. 
The  man  lay  quite  still,  with  his  head  curled  under  his 
body  in  a  cramped  position. 

Out  of  the  saddle  leaped  the  boy,  and  he  was  bending 
over  the  man  a  moment  later.  Still  the  man  did  not 
stir,  but  the  horse  regarded  the  boy  with  a  look  of  pain 
and  appeal  in  its  eyes,  and  whinnied  pitifully. 

Frank  turned  the  man  over,  and  the  bloated  face  of 
Bill  Wade,  the  hostler,  was  exposed.  The  man  was 
stone  dead,  his  neck  being  broken,  and  the  horse  had 
broken  a  leg. 

"Poor  fellow !"  muttered  Frank,  but  he  was  thinking 
of  the  horse. 

Then  he  stooped  and  looked  at  the  horse's  feet. 

"Just  as  I  thought!"  he  cried.  "The  shoes  are  set 
the  wrong  end  forward  on  the  creature,  and  I  might 
have  been  fooled  if  I  had  not  seen  Wade  riding  into  the 
timber.  It  was  a  clever  trick,  but  it  failed." 

Then  he  turned  and  looked  down  at  the  man  once 
more. 

"In  at  the  death!"  he  grimly  said. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A      CHANGE      OF      SCENE. 

With  the  death  of  Wade,  the  paid  tool  of  Stephen 
Fenton,  the  latter  took  alarm  and  disappeared  from 
Springbrook  Farm,  leaving  a  clear  field  to  Harry 
Harden. 

Before  leaving  Springbrook,  Frank  was  forced  to 
repeat  the  story  of  the  hunt  so  many  times  that  he  be- 
came heartily  tired  of  it.  He  was  also  tired  of  being 
regarded  as  a  hero,  and  hearing  compliments  from  all 
sides.  A  less  level-headed  lad  might  have  become 
inflated  with  his  own  importance,  but  "swelled  head" 
was  a  disease  that  never  secured  a  hold  on  Frank 
Merriwell. 

But  the  boys  all  voted  that  they  had  enjoyed  them- 
selves hugely  at  Springbrook,  and  each  and  every  one 
of  them  was  forced  to  promise  that  it  would  not 
be  the  last  visit  to  the  place. 

They  might  have  remained  longer,  as  it  was,  but 
the  fall  term  of  college  was  at  hand,  and  several  of 
them  were  impatient  to  return  to  dear  Old  Yale. 

"I  want  to  get  back  and  take  a  rest,"  said  Browning. 
"A  big,  long  rest.  I  think  I  need  it." 

"Did  you  ever  see  the  time  you  didn't  rest  a  need — 
I  mean,  need  a  rest  ?"  cried  Harry. 

"Are  we  to  go  right  straight  through  to  New  York  ?" 
questioned  Jack. 


244  A  Change  of  Scene. 

"I  thought  so  at  first,"  answered  Frank.  "But  I 
have  received  a  letter  which  may  change  our  plans — 
if  you  agree." 

"What  letter?"  asked  several. 

"A  letter  from  Charlie  Creighton,  of  Philadelphia. 
He  urges  us  to  stop  off  and  pay  him  a  visit." 

"Creighton,  eh  ?"  said  Jack.  "I  remember  him.  He 
was  a  good  chap  at  Yale." 

"Can  we  have  some  sport  in  Philadelphia?"  ques- 
tioned Harry. 

"I  think  so.  But  not  such  sport  as  we  have  had  here 
or  in  the  mountains." 

"Dot  vos  all  right  alretty,"  put  in  Hans.  "I  peen 
villing  to  take  it  easy  for  you,  you  bet  mine  life! 
No  more  vild  adventures  py  me  alretty!" 

"By  gum,  it's  time  we  quieted  deown,"  snorted  Eph- 
raim.  "Ef  we  don't  we'll  be  as  wild  ez  hawks  when 
we  git  ter  hum!" 

The  matter  was  talked  over  for  quite  a  while,  after 
which  a  vote  was  taken  by  which  it  was  unanimously 
resolved  to  move  on  to  Philadelphia,  pay  a  short  visit 
to  the  college  youth  mentioned,  and  see  "how  the  land 
lay,"  as  Harry  expressed  it. 

Two  days  later  found  them  on  the  way.  They 
picked  out  the  best  bicycle  road,  and  took  their  time, 
so  that  even  Bruce  did  no  growling. 

A  telegram  was  sent  ahead  to  Charlie  Creighton, 
and  he  met  them  at  the  Continental  Hotel,  at  which 
place  they  decided  to  put  up  for  the  time  being,  for 
they  knew  Creighton  could  not  very  well  accommodate 
the  whole  crowd,  and  they  were  unwilling  to  separate. 


A  Change  of  Scene.  245 

"You  must  stay  over,  at  least  a  few  days,"  said 
Charlie  Creighton.  "And  some  of  you  must  stay  up 
to  our  house,  too.  It's  up  on  Chestnut  Hill,  and  I 
know  you  will  like  it.  My  sister  has  a  number  of  girl 
friends  up  there,  and  all  of  us  will  do  what  we  can  to 
make  you  comfortable."  And  so  it  was  settled. 

Frank  found  the  Creightons  very  nice  people,  and 
soon  felt  at  home  with  them.  Mabel  Creighton  was  a 
girl  who  reminded  him  slightly  of  Elsie  Bellwood,  al- 
though he  did  not  think  her  quite  so  pretty  as  his  old- 
time  sweetheart. 

Mabel  had  several  girl  chums,  and  soon  Frank  and 
the  other  boys  were  on  good  terms  all  around. 

The  girls  loved  to  play  tennis,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  they  induced  Frank  and  the  others  to  play. 

What  one  of  these  games  led  to  will  be  told  in  the 
chapter  to  follow. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

FRANK     MEETS     DEFEAT. 

"Look  out,  Merriwell!"  called  Bart  Hodge,  from 
his  comfortable  seat  in  the  shade  of  the  vine-covered 
arbor.  "This  game  decides  the  set." 

"I  know  that,"  smiled  Frank,  as  he  took  his  posi- 
tion back  of  the  base  line  of  the  right  court,  poised  his 
racket,  and  prepared  to  serve.  "Miss  Creighton  is  a 
wonder  at  tennis." 

The  pretty  girl  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  net 
laughed  merrily. 

"Oh,  what  a  jolly  thing  it  will  be  to  defeat  Frank 
Merriwell,  the  great  Yale  athlete,  of  whom  my  brother 
is  forever  telling  some  improbable  yarn !"  she  cried. 

Three  other  girls,  two  of  whom  were  swinging  in  a 
hammock,  clapped  their  hands  and  laughed. 

"Do  it,  Mabel — do  it!"  eagerly  urged  Bessie  Blos- 
som. "My  brother  is  forever  talking  about  Frank 
Merriwell,  too!  Sile  seems  to  think  Mr.  Merriwell 
is  the  only  fellow  in  college." 

"Oh,  he's  not  the  only  pebble  on  the  beach!"  sang 
Fanny  Darling,  who,  for  half  an  hour,  had  been  trying 
to  tease  Jack  about  Frank,  and  had  succeeded  in  making 
the  loyal  fellow  decidedly  sour  and  sarcastic.  "He 
may  be  able  to  cut  some  ice  with  men,  but  he'll  have  to 
sharpen  his  wits  when  he  encounters  the  opposite  sex." 

Fanny  was  freckled  and  given  to  slang,  but  she  was 


Frank  Meets  Defeat.  247 

independent,  could  take  care  of  herself,  and  was 
popular. 

The  third  girl,  Lucy  Lake,  said  nothing  at  all,  but 
seemed  to  enjoy  it  all  very  much. 

Frank  was  not  at  all  disturbed  by  the  chaffing  of  the 
girls.  In  fact,  he  seemed  to  enjoy  it  thoroughly,  and 
he  laughingly  said: 

"If  I  am  to  fall,  I  could  choose  no  fairer  conqueror." 

Mabel  Creighton  laughed,  but  added  color  came  to 
her  flushed  face,  and  she  could  not  entirely  conceal  her 
happy  confusion.  She  betrayed  in  a  moment  that  al- 
ready she  had  learned  to  regard  her  brother's  guest  with 
unusual  favor. 

At  tennis  Mabel  Creighton  was  a  wonder.  Never 
had  Frank  seen  a  girl  who  was  so  light  on  her  feet  and 
so  deft  with  a  racket.  She  had  actually  driven  him  to 
the  base  line  game,  while  she  played  a  net  game  and 
volleyed  with  such  bewildering  skill  and  rapidity  that 
it  made  Frank  gasp  for  breath. 

To  himself  Frank  confessed  that  he  had  never  be- 
fore seen  a  girl  who  could  serve  so  perfectly,  or  who 
ran  up  on  her  service  so  quickly.  It  seemed  impos- 
sible to  take  her  off  her  guard. 

Frank  had  started  out  with  a  half-formed  fancy 
to  let  her  win,  but  it  was  not  long  before  he  discovered 
she  was  an  opponent  worthy  of  his  best  efforts. 

And  now,  as  he  prepared  to  serve,  the  score  stood 
"games  all,"  with  one  "advantage  game"  to  Mabel's 
credit.  If  she  could  win  again,  Frank  would  be  de- 
feated. 


248  Frank  Meets  Defeat. 

If  possible,  Frank  resolved  to  keep  her  from  win- 
ning that  time,  just  to  make  it  interesting. 

But,  on  this  occasion,  Frank  was  to  discover  it  was 
not  such  an  easy  thing  to  keep  a  determined  girl  and 
a  good  tennis  player  from  defeating  him. 

With  as  much  freshness  and  vigor  as  if  she  had 
not  been  so  long  at  work,  Mabel  received  the  ball, 
returning  it  with  a  smashing  stroke,  upon  which  she 
risked  everything. 

Frank  was  not  looking  for  such  a  play  at  the  very 
start,  and  it  took  him  slightly  off  his  guard.  He  got 
the  ball  on  the  bound,  but  drove  it  out  of  bounds,  and 
lost  the  first  point  with  surprising  quickness. 

"He's  going  to  lose  the  set !"  muttered  Hodge,  dis- 
consolately. 

Fanny  Darling  laughed  merrily. 

"Of  course  he  is !"  she  cried.     "Why,  he  isn't  in  it !" 

The  game  went  forward  swiftly,  but  Frank  won  the 
second  point  by  "lobbying,"  being  able  to  toss  the  ball 
over  the  girl's  head  so  she  could  not  get  back  to  re- 
ceive it. 

"He's  getting  desperate  when  he  resorts  to  that  style 
of  play,"  decided  Diamond. 

Fanny  Darling  gave  a  shriek  of  laughter. 

"Oh,  my  goodness!"  she  cried.  "Did  you  see  that, 
girls?  That's  all  the  way  he  can  get  a  point  now! 
He's  afraid  to  try  a  drive!  Is  this  the  mighty  Frank 
Merriwell,  of  whom  we  have  heard  so  much?  Oh, 
my!  oh,  my!" 

Frank  joined  in  the  burst  of  laughter. 

"Miss  Creighton  has  me  guessing,"  he  confessed. 


Frank  Meets  Defeat.  249 

"I  acknowledge  I  fell  back  on  what  seemed  my  last  and 
only  resort." 

"It's  too  bad  to  laugh  like  that,  Fan,"  protested 
Lucy  Lake.  "Just  see  what  a  gentleman  he  is,  and 
how  honest  he  is  in  owning  up  that  Mabel  is  giving 
him  a  close  game." 

"Too  bad!"  mocked  Fanny.  "Oh,  I  don't  know! 
He's  altogether  too  honest!  Nothing  seems  to  ruffle 
or  disturb  him.  I  don't  like  a  fellow  who  is  so  cool. 
I'd  give  anything  if  I  could  get  Frank  Merriwell  real 
good  and  mad." 

"Why  do  you  wish  to  do  that?" 

"Oh,  just  for  fun !  I'd  like  to  prove  that  he  can  lose 
his  temper  occasionally." 

On  the  very  next  play  Frank  succeeded  in  winning 
another  point  by  placing  the  ball  skillfully,  which  made 
the  score  stand  thirty-fifteen,  in  his  favor. 

Hodge  brightened  up. 

"Oh,  Merry  has  been  fooling  all  along,"  he  declared. 
"You'll  see  how  easy  he  will  pull  off  the  set,  Miss 
Darling.  He  hasn't  cared  to  hurt  Miss  Creighton's 
feelings  by  showing  her  up." 

"Indeed!"  scornfully  returned  the  saucy  little  witch 
with  the  freckled  face.  "Don't  count  your  chickens  so 
soon.  Mr.  Merriwell  won't  melt  things." 

Mabel  Creighton  looked  doubly  determined  as  she 
again  prepared  to  serve.  Her  eyes  measured  the  dis- 
tance to  the  net  carefully,  and  though  she  made  a  fault 
by  placing  her  first  ball  against  the  top  of  the  net,  she 
sent  the  next  over  with  a  speedy  drive. 

In  a  moment  Merry  was  on  it,  and  he  made  a  hand- 


Frank  Meets  Defeat. 

some  return,  which,  however,  did  not  deceive  the  girl 
in  the  least.  Mabel  volleyed,  and  Frank  was  forced 
to  resort  to  the  same  play.  For  some  moments  the 
game  was  highly  exciting,  and  the  spectators  gasped 
for  breath.  Then  the  girl  smashed  one  down  within 
three  inches  of  the  outside  line,  and  Frank's  return 
was  outside,  so  the  score  was  evened. 

"Oh,  I  knew  it!"  chattered  Fanny  Darling.  "I'll 
bet  a  pound  of  Huyler's  that  Mr.  Frank  Merriwell 
does  not  make  another  count." 

"Done!"  cried  Hodge. 

"Oh,  say,  isn't  this  easy,  girls?"  laughed  Fanny. 
"It's  a  perfect  snap !" 

"For  us,"  smiled  Bessie  Blossom.  "We'll  have  some 
of  that  candy  who  ever  wins." 

The  next  point  was  scored  by  Mabel,  and  Diamond 
called: 

"You  must  quit  fooling,  Merry,  old  man.  It's 
forty-thirty,  and  she  wins  if  you  do  not  tie  her  this 
time." 

"I  shall  do  my  best,"  declared  Frank. 

He  did  do  his  best,  and  it  seemed  that  he  would  tire 
the  girl  out,  but  he  was  not  successful,  and  a  final  dar- 
ing drive  from  Mabel's  racket  was  successful. 

She  had  won  the  game  and  the  set. 

"Well,  Merriwell,  I  must  say  you  are  a  good  thing!" 
called  a  laughing  voice.  "I  didn't  suppose  you  would 
let  a  little  girl  like  that  get  the  best  of  you  at  any- 
thing." 

It  was  Charlie  Creighton  himself  who  had  entered 


Frank  Meets  Defeat.  251 

the  grounds,  and  was  standing  near  the  tennis  court, 
accompanied  by  a  stranger. 

The  latter  was  a  stocky-built  lad  of  nineteen  or 
twenty,  with  thin  lips  and  a  hard-set  jaw,  besides 
having  a  large  neck  that  swelled  at  the  base.  He  was 
dressed  in  clothes  that  fitted  him  perfectly,  but  were  a 
trifle  "loud"  or  "sporty,"  to  say  the  least. 

"Yes,  I  am  a  good  thing,"  returned  Frank,  also 
laughing;  "and  your  sister  has  enjoyed  herself  with 
me  immensely.  If  you  taught  her  to  play  tennis, 
Creighton,  she  does  you  credit." 

"Oh,"  cried  Fanny  Darling,  "now  that  Mr.  Merri- 
well  is  defeated,  I  suppose  he  will  say  it  is  not  polite 
to  win  from  a  girl,  and  so  he  did  not  do  his  best.  That 
makes  me  tired!" 

"I  shall  say  nothing  of  the  sort,  Miss  Darling,"  de- 
clared Merry,  with  unfailing  good-nature.  "I  tell  you 
honestly  that  I  soon  discovered  I  would  not  be  in  the 
game  at  all  if  I  loafed,  and  I  did  my  prettiest.  I  think 
I  played  my  average  game,  and  I  know  that  Miss 
Creighton  defeated  me  without  receiving  any  favors." 

"Really,  you  astonish  me !"  said  Fanny,  who  did  not 
seem  pleased  by  this  confession.  "But  I  see  you  are 
inclined  to  be  diplomatic.  I  don't  blame  you, 
but " 

She  interrupted  herself  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  and 
she  had  hinted  quite  enough  to  bring  the  hot  blood  to 
Frank's  cheeks,  although  he  pretended  not  to  under- 
stand her  meaning. 

Generous  to  a  fault,  it  cut  Merriwell  deeply  to  be 
suspected  of  declaring  he  had  been  beaten  fairly  and 


252  Frank  Meets  Defeat. 

not  meaning  it.  A  blow  in  the  face  would  not  have 
hurt  him  so  much,  but  he  simply  smiled,  saying : 

"You  do  me  an  injustice,  Miss  Darling." 

No  one  understood  how  Frank  had  been  touched 
better  than  Bart  Hodge,  and  he  growled  under  his 
breath,  giving  Fanny  Darling  a  scowl,  which  she  did 
not  see. 

The  stranger  with  Charlie  Creighton  was  sizing  up 
Merriwell  in  an  open  manner  that  was  little  short  of 
insolent. 

"Merry,"  called  Creighton,  "permit  me  to  introduce 
Mr.  Wallace  Hegner — Mr.  Hegner,  Mr.  Merriwell." 

Frank  came  forward,  and  offered  his  hand,  which 
Hegner  accepted  with  an  air  that  was  rather  super- 
cilious, to  say  the  least. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Hegner?"  said  Frank.  "I'm 
always  pleased  to  meet  any  of  Creighton's  friends." 

"How  are  yer  ?"  said  Hegner. 

The  touch  of  the  fellow's  hand  gave  Merry  a  feeling 
of  repulsion.  He  dropped  it  almost  instantly. 

"Mr.  Hegner  is  Burk's  trainer,  you  know,"  explained 
Creighton.  <fYou  remember  what  I  was  telling  you 
last  night  about  Hank  Burk  going  against  Tom 
Jackson?" 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  nodded  Merry.  "I  believe  you 
said  this  Jackson  is  backed  by  the  Olympic  Club?" 

"Yes,  they  are  the  challenging  parties.  They  think 
Jackson  can  whip  his  weight  in  wildcats,  and  it  is 
their  boast  that  he  will  hammer  the  best  man  Fair- 
mount  can  put  up  all  over  the  ring.  Mr.  Hegner  has 
been  handling  Burk  nearly  six  weeks,  and  has  him  in 


Frank  Meets  Defeat.  253 

the  pink  of  condition.  He  says  our  man  will  give 
Jackson  the  biggest  surprise  he  ever  struck.  If  it  was 
to  be  with  hard  gloves,  it's  more  than  even  Burk  would 
knock  Jackson  out  in  four  rounds.  But  we " 

"Oh,  Charlie!"  exclaimed  his  sister;  "what  do  you 
suppose  we  care  about  that!  You  can  talk  of  those 
things  at  the  club,  and  you  are  there  the  most  of  the 
time." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  laughed  Creighton.  "I  for- 
got the  young  ladies  present.  They  do  not  care  for 
boxing." 

"Some  of  them  do,"  said  Fanny  Darling,  quickly. 
"I  like  a  fellow  who  can  handle  his  fists  scientifically 
and  take  care  of  himself.  That's  why  I  admire  Mr. 
Hegner  so  much." 

"Thank  you,"  Hegner  bowed,  with  great  gravity. 
"The  manly  art  is  worth  acquiring,  if  it  were  useful 
only  to  protect  young  ladies  from  insult." 

"Haw!"  grunted  Hodge.  "There  are  some  fellows 
who  can  box  a  little,  and  yet  do  not  make  a  great  spread 
about  it." 

Hegner's  eyes  narrowed,  and  he  surveyed  Hodge 
with  the  same  insolent  air  with  which  he  had  regarded 
Frank  Merriwell. 

"I  presume  you  box  some,  sir?"  he  asked. 

"Not  much,  but  I  have  friends  who  are  able  to  put 
up  quite  a  little  go." 

Charlie  Creighton  interposed  laughingly,  and  intro- 
duced Hegner  and  Hodge.  Bart  bowed  stiffly,  but  did 
not  offer  his  hand,  while  Hegner  nodded  as  if  he  had 


254  Frank  Meets  Defeat. 

rheumatism  in  his  neck.  Then  Diamond  was  in- 
troduced. 

"Do  you  put  on  the  gloves?**  Hegner  asked  of  the 
Virginian,  in  a  blunt  way. 

"Not  often,"  was  the  answer,  as  Jack's  cheeks 
glowed  a  bit.  "Never  had  them  on  in  my  life  till  I 
went  to  Yale  and  ran  up  against  Merriwell.  South- 
erners, sir,  have  a  way  of  settling  differences  with  other 
weapons  than  their  fists." 

"Oh!" 

Jack  bit  his  lip,  for  there  was  a  hidden  sneer  in  that 
simple  exclamation.  For  a  moment  he  felt  like  chal- 
lenging Hegner  on  the  spot,  but  remembered  that  he 
was  in  the  North,  where  such  things  did  not  "go." 

Hegner  turned  to  Frank,  whom  he  again  surveyed 
from  head  to  feet. 

"From  what  Mr.  Diamond  says,  I  infer  that  you 
are  something  of  a  boxer,"  he  observed. 

"Well,  there  are  others,"  smiled  Merry.  "I  do  not 
consider  myself  anything  more  than  fairly  handy  with 
the  gloves." 

"Now,  Frank!"  began  Hodge;  but  Merriwell  cut 
him  short  with  a  glance. 

"Well,  I  didn't  know  but  you  thought  you  could 
spar,"  said  Hegner,  in  a  bored  way,  and  then  he  turned 
and  began  to  talk  to  Fanny  Darling,  who  chatted  and 
laughed  with  him  as  if  pleased  by  his  attention. 

Frank  was  thoroughly  disgusted  by  the  air  assumed 
by  Creighton's  companion,  and  Charlie  himself  was  not 
pleased.  And  Bart  Hodge  was  chewing  his  tongue  as  a 
war  horse  might  champ  its  bit,  while  he  glared  at 


Frank  Meets  Defeat.  255 

Tier's  back  in  a  way  that  told  he  was  thoroughly  "stirred 
up." 

After  a  while,  Creighton  proposed  that  they  should 
go  down  to  the  club.  To  this  the  girls  objected,  but 
Hodge  and  Diamond  exchanged  significant  glances, 
and  then  expressed  sudden  eagerness  to  go. 

"I'll  have  to  go  anyway,"  said  Hegner.  "Burk  will 
be  there,  and  I  am  due  to  give  him  his  regular  course." 

"Well,  I  will  remain  here  and  do  my  best  to  enter- 
tain the  girls,"  said  Frank. 

"Not  by  a  hanged  sight!"  said  Hodge,  quickly. 
"We  want  you  to  come  along  with  us,  Merry." 

"That's  right,"  agreed  Diamond.  "Won't  you 
come,  old  fellow?" 

"Oh,  yes,  by  all  means,  go!"  cried  Fanny  Darling. 
"We  can  get  along  very  well  without  any  fellow  to 
bother  us." 

It  was  too  good  an  opportunity  for  Frank  to  miss, 
and  so  he  quietly  said : 

"If  I  remained  behind  I  should  not  bother  you 
much,  Miss  Darling." 

This  was  unusually  ungallant  for  Frank,  but  he  be- 
gan to  see  that  Fanny  must  be  met  with  her  own 
weapons,  and  he  had  suddenly  decided  on  his  course  of 
dealing  with  her  in  the  future.  His  retort  brought 
the  blood  to  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  flashed  as  she 
snapped : 

"That's  right!     I  wouldn't  let  you!" 

As  the  five  lads  walked  away  to  take  a  car,  Bessie 
Blossom  said : 


256  Frank  Meets  Defeat. 

"How  could  you  be  so  rude  to  such  a  splendid  fel- 
low, Fan?  It  was  just  perfectly  horrid  of  you!" 

"That's  so!"  chorused  Lucy  and  Mabel.  "Frank 
Merriwell  is  splendid!" 

"Say,  girls,"  cried  Fanny,  "you  make  me  weary! 
The  trouble  with  Mr.  Merriwell  is  that  he  is  smart, 
and  he  knows  it.  He  has  been  accustomed  to  having 
everybody  flatter  him,  and  it  will  do  him  good  to  know 
there  are  persons  who  do  not  think  he  is  the  only 
item  in  the  paper.  Perhaps  it  will  reduce  the  size  of 
his  head  so  an  ordinary  hat  will  fit  him." 

"If  there  is  any  fellow  in  the  world  who  has  every 
reason  to  have  a  swelled  head,  and  still  hasn't  got  one, 
it  is  Frank  Merriwell,"  declared  Mabel  Creighton. 
"My  brother  says  so,  and  he  knows.  He  says  that,  for 
a  fellow  in  such  a  position,  Merriwell  is  the  most  un- 
assuming chap  in  college.  You  do  him  an  injustice, 
Fanny." 

The  girl  with  the  freckles  gave  her  head  a  saucy 
toss. 

"Oh,  that's  what's  the  matter— every  one  of  you  is 
stuck  on  him !  I  saw  that  right  away.  And  it  always 
happens  that  way.  Wherever  he  goes,  the  girls  get 
all  broke  up  over  him,  and  then  flock  around  him. 
Well,  he'll  find  there  is  one  girl  who  doesn't  care  a 
cent  for  him — so  there!" 

"At  least,  Fanny,  you  might  treat  him  decent,"  pro- 
tested Mabel. 

"I  will,  for  I  won't  have  anything  at  all  to  say  to 
him  after  this.  I  hope  that  will  satisfy  you.  If  Wai- 


Frank  Meets  Defeat.  257 

lace  Hegner  would  put  on  the  gloves  with  him,  and 
give  him  a  good  thumping,  it  would  help  take  the  con- 
ceit out  of  him.  But  Mr.  Merriwell,  the  great  Yale 
athlete,  would  be  far  too  shrewd  to  stand  up  in  front 
of  Hegner  for  a  bout" 


1 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

FRANK    EXPRESSES    HIS    OPINION. 

The  members  of  the  Fairmount  Athletic  Club,  of 
Philadelphia,  were  mainly  lads  under  twenty  years  of 
age.  There  were  a  few  older  members  in  the  club  to 
keep  everything  straight  and  see  that  it  was  run  all 
right,  but  the  club  was  organized  and  conducted  for 
the  advantage  of  lads  from  fifteen  to  twenty-one. 

Not  a  few  of  the  members  were  sons  of  wealthy 
parents,  but  it  was  not  necessary  for  a  fellow's  parents 
to  be  rich  in  order  that  he  might  become  a  member. 
Rich  men  contributed  liberally  to  the  support  of  the 
club,  which  made  it  possible  for  the  regular  fees  and 
dues  to  be  light,  and  youngsters  whose  parents  were 
quite  unknown,  but  who  were  regarded  as  "all  right" 
themselves,  obtained  admission  to  the  club. 

Although  great  precaution  had  been  exercised  not  to 
let  in  any  one  who  would  be  objectionable,  it  was  im- 
possible to  exclude  all  objectionable  parties,  for,  after 
getting  in,  some  of  the  members  showed  traits  of  char- 
acter which  their  best  friends  had  never  dreamed  they 
possessed. 

Gambling  in  the  clubrooms  was  prohibited,  but 
cards,  billiards  and  pool  were  permitted.  There  was  a 
fine  bowling  alley,  and  the  gymnasium  was  fitted  up 
splendidly  with  all  needed  apparatus.  In  the  reading- 
room  were  all  the  late  magazines  and  papers,  among 


Frank  Expresses  His  Opinion.        259 

which  were  the  leading  sporting  publications.  There 
also  was  a  good  library  of  books,  containing  volumes 
treating  of  sports  and  athletics.  On  the  walls  were 
pictures  of  famous  amateurs,  of  matches,  contests  and 
races,  of  all  sorts,  and  of  the  members  df  the  club  who 
had  made  records. 

Creighton  had  opened  the  club  to  Frank  Merriwell 
and  his  friends,  all  of  whom  were  led  to  understand 
that  they  would  be  welcomed  there  as  long  as  they  re- 
mained in  Philadelphia. 

After  leaving  the  girls  at  the  tennis  ground,  Charlie 
and  the  others  proceeded  directly  to  the  club.  There 
they  found  a  number  of  fellows  assembled,  waiting  to 
see  Hegner  put  Burk  through  his  daily  course. 

Burk  was  there,  a  tall,  thin  fellow,  with  short- 
cropped  hair  and  a  bullet-head.  There  was  nothing 
attractive  about  his  face,  and  there  was  something 
vicious  in  his  little  eyes. 

At  a  glance,  Frank  saw  that  the  fellow  selected  to 
represent  the  Fairmounts  had  many  of  the  characteris- 
tics of  the  professional  prize  fighter.  He  was  hard 
and  sinewy,  quick  in  his  movements,  had  a  big  knotty 
fist,  and  looked  as  if  he  could  stand  any  amount  of 
punishment.  Blows  would  have  very  little  effect  on 
him,  unless  they  were  delivered  with  skill  sufficient  to 
knock  him  out. 

Creighton  introduced  Burk  to  the  boys,  and  Frank 
talked  with  the  fellow.  It  did  not  take  Merry  long 
to  find  out  that,  although  Burk  had  a  father  who  was 
wealthy  and  moved  in  good  society,  the  son  belonged 
to  that  class  of  boys  who  never  advance  beyond  a  cer- 


260        Frank  Expresses  His  Opinion. 

tain  limit,  no  matter  how  much  they  may  be  pushed. 
He  had  no  fine  sensibilities,  and  was  coarse-grained 
in  everything. 

"What  do  you  think  of  him  ?"  asked  Charlie  Creigh- 
ton,  as  they  moved  away,  after  Frank  had  chatted  with 
the  young  pugilist. 

"Well,  you  know  I  have  not  had  sufficient  time  to 
form  a  settled  opinion,"  answered  Merry,  evasively. 

"Come  off!"  exclaimed  Creighton,  quickly.  "I 
know  you,  and  I  know  you  have  sized  him  up.  What 
do  you  think  of  him?" 

"To  be  honest,  Charlie,  I  am  astonished  to  find  him 
a  member  of  this  club." 

"Eh?  Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean;  but  Hank  is 
all  right,  and  his  dad  cuts  a  figure  in  this  town." 

"I  presume  he  got  in  on  his  dad's  reputation?" 

"Well,  that  had  something  to  do  with  it." 

"He  looks  as  if  he  might  make  a  good  professional 
bruiser  in  time." 

"Well,  you  know  there  is  to  be  nothing  professional 
about  this  affair,  old  man.  That's  on  the  level." 

"How  do  you  manage  it  ?" 

"Why,  there  is  a  fierce  rivalry  between  the  Olympics 
and  Fairmounts.  This  club  started  first,  and  it  rejected 
a  number  of  fellows  who  applied  for  membership. 
Those  fellows  usually  were  sons  of  rich  parents,  but 
they  had  a  bad  record,  and  we  didn't  want  them.  They 
got  mad  and  formed  an  organization  of  their  own. 
Their  fathers  were  angry  to  think  their  sons  should 
be  shut  out  of  here,  and  they  swore  the  Olympic  should 
knock  the  snots  off  this  club.  They  have  a  building 


Frank  Expresses  His  Opinion.        261 

of  their  own,  and  it  is  furnished  magnificently.  The 
dues  are  high,  and  no  one  but  the  son  of  a  rich  man 
can  afford  to  belong  there.  It  has  cost  their  fathers 
a  royal  round  sum  to  establish  the  club,  and  it  is  cost- 
ing them  big  money  to  keep  it  going.  At  first,  they 
attempted  to  be  exclusive  and  look  down  on  the  Fair- 
mount  with  disdain,  but  that  did  not  seem  to  bother 
us,  and  when  they  found  it  appeared  to  be  just  what 
we  wanted,  they  adopted  another  policy.  They  set 
out  to  lead  us  in  athletics,  and  their  men  have  been 
against  our  men  in  every  event  possible  since  then, 
while  they  have  poured  out  money  like  water  in  order 
to  down  us.  They  have  not  always  been  inclined  to  be 
thoroughly  fair  and  square  about  it,  either.  If  they 
can  get  the  best  of  us  at  anything  by  foul  means,  there 
is  no  doubt  but  they  will  do  it." 

"I  understand.  But  you  said  this  match  is  not  to 
be  like  a  professional  contest.  In  what  way  do  you 
mean?" 

"Why,  it  is  like  this :  There  is  no  purse  offered,  no 
admission  will  be  charged,  and  the  victor  will  win 
nothing  but  glory." 

Frank  looked  doubtful. 

"I  fail  to  understand  how  you  can  carry  the  thing 
on  in  that  way.  Did  Burk  agree  to  it  readily?" 

"At  first  he  wanted  to  fight  for  a  purse,  and  tried  to 
have  it  a  hard  glove  affair ;  but  that  would  have  made 
it  a  regular  prize  fight,  and  Fairmount  could  not 
stand  that." 

"I  should  say  not !     I  believe  in  boxing,  but  if  there 


262        Frank  Expresses  His  Opinion. 

is  anything  I  heartily  detest  it  is  prize  fighting  and 
prize  fighters." 

"I  believe  I  have  heard  you  express  your  opinion  in 
that  direction  before." 

"I  have  expressed  it  often  enough." 

"And  still  you  can  fight  yourself,  Merriwell." 

"I  can  fight  if  it  is  necessary,  and  I  believe  every 
fellow  should  learn  to  do  that,  for  there  will  come  times 
when  he'll  find  the  knowledge  valuable.  As  long  as 
the  world  stands  there  will  be  ruffians  and  bruisers  who 
will  attempt  to  impose  on  peaceful  people,  and  there 
have  been  scores  of  times  in  my  life  when  I  have  not 
found  it  possible  to  avoid  a  fight.  When  I  have  to 
fight,  I  sail  in  for  all  I  am  worth,  and  do  the  other 
fellow  up  as  quick  as  I  can;  but  I  do  not  like  it,  and 
the  chap  who  does  has  too  much  of  the  brute  in  him 
to  suit  me." 

"You  have  very  decided  ideas  on  almost  everything, 
Merry." 

"What  is  a  fellow  worth  if  he  does  not  have  a  few 
convictions  he  is  willing  to  stand  by?" 

"Not  much." 

"That's  right  I  respect  a  fellow  who  will  fight  for 
what  he  thinks  is  right,  even  though  it  may  be  wrong; 
but  I  do  not  respect  a  prize  fighter  who  will  fight  like 
a  beast  for  a  purse  of  money/' 

"Well,  there  is  to  be  no  purse  in  this  affair.  I  think 
you  will  like  Burk  better  when  you  know  him  better. 
He  is  going  to  fight  Jackson  for  the  honor  of  the 
dub." 

"And  Jackson — what  about  him?" 


Frank  Expresses  His  Opinion.        263 

"I  don't  know.  Those  fellows  can  make  such  ar- 
rangements with  him  as  they  like;  it's  nothing  to  us." 

"You  do  not  expect  to  stop  betting?" 

"No  betting  will  be  allowed  in  the  clubroom.  Of 
course  there  may  be  betting  on  the  outside.  We  can't 
expect  to  stop  that." 

"Well,"  said  Frank,  "it  has  a  slight  flavor  of  a 
prize  fight,  and  still  it  is  not  one.  What  sort  of  gloves 
will  they  use?" 

"Six  ounce." 

"Eight  ounce  gloves  are  allowable." 

"I  know  it,  but  six  have  been  decided  on.  This  is 
for  points." 

"And  will  it  be  carried  out  under  the  rules  of  the 
Amateur  Athletic  Union?" 

"Sure." 

"How  do  those  fellows  class?" 

"Light.  Burk's  weight  is  one  hundred  and  forty- 
six  usually,  but  Hegner  has  him  down  to  one  hundred 
and  thirty-two  now,  and  says  he  does  not  care  to  get 
him  lighter." 

"I  presume  two  judges  and  a  referee  will  be  chosen?" 

"Yes.  If  the  judges  disagree,  the  referee  will  de- 
cide." 

"Well,  I  hope  you  win  the  trick,  Creighton." 

"Oh,  we'll  do  that  if  it's  possible.  Hegner  knows  his 
business,  and  he  says  Burk  can  do  Jackson." 

"I  wouldn't  trust  Hegner  as  far  as  I  could  throw 
a  Texas  steer  by  the  tail." 

"That's  because  you  have  taken  a  dislike  to  him.     I 


264        Frank  Expresses  His  Opinion. 

will  confess  that  he  is  not  agreeable  sometimes,  but  it 
is  his  way." 

"It's  a  very  poor  way." 

"Yes,  I'll  admit  that;  but  he  was  on  his  guard 
against  you,  for  he  has  heard  so  much  about  you, 
He  expected  to  find  that  you  thought  you  knew  it  all." 

"That  does  not  excuse  his  boorishness." 

"Admitted;  but  still  I  say  he  knows  his  business, 
and  we  depend  on  him  when  he  says  Burk  will  win. 
Hegner  is  the  cleverest  boxer  of  his  age  in  Philadel- 
phia." 

"That  is  saying  considerable." 

"I  mean  it,  and  he'd  prove  it  to  you  if  you  were  to 
put  on  the  gloves  with  him.  I  know  you  are  pretty 
good,  but  Heg  would  give  you  a  surprise." 

"He  must  be  good,  if  you  have  so  much  confidence 
in  him.  Well,  I  sincerely  hope  your  confidence  is  not 
misplaced,  but  there  is  something  about  the  fellow's 
face  that  makes  me  suspicious  of  him.  I  would  not 
trust  him,  and  I  believe  he  is  treacherous.  It  is  my 
opinion  that  he  will  try  to  get  something  out  of  this 
mill  some  way." 

"He  is  getting  something  out  of  it." 

"Ah!     So?" 

"Yes ;  we're  paying  him  to  put  Burk  in  shape." 

"It  is  possible  that  will  satisfy  him,  but  I  think  he's 
a  schemer.  I  tell  you,  Creighton,  you'll  find  it  to  your 
advantage  to  look  out  for  Hegner." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE    FIRST    BLOW. 

Hegner  was  giving  Burk  his  regular  daily  training, 
explaining  just  when  it  was  best  to  use  the  stop  for  the 
left-hand  uppercut  and  when  it  was  advisable  to  duck 
and  counter  on  the  body. 

Quite  a  throng  had  gathered  to  watch  them.  Both 
were  stripped  down  to  their  regular  training  suits, 
which  gave  Frank  a  chance  to  size  them  up  still  better 
than  heretofore. 

Merriwell  saw  he  had  made  no  mistake  in  Burk,  but, 
if  anything,  Hegner  was  more  sinewy  and  had  better 
muscular  development  than  Frank  had  thought. 

The  two  lads  were  working  gently,  going  through 
the  movements  for  each  blow,  parry,  dodge  and  coun- 
ter with  deliberation,  and  Frank  soon  saw  that  Hegner 
really  knew  his  business. 

"What  do  you  think  of  those  chaps,  Merriwell?" 
asked  Hodge,  who  seemed  strangely  restless  and 
nervous. 

"I  haven't  seen  them  get  to  work  in  earnest  yet," 
was  the  answer. 

"Say,  old  man!" 

"What  is  it?" 

"I'd  like  to  see  you  go  up  against  that  Hegner  and 
hammer  him  all  over  the  lot  I  despise  the  sight  of 
him." 


266  The  First  Blow. 

"Perhaps  I  couldn't  do  the  trick,  you  know." 

"What?  Get  out!     I  know  you  could  1" 

Diamond  was  attracted  by  what  was  passing  be- 
tween them,  and  dipped  in. 

"Could?  Could  what?"  he  asked. 

"Could  knock  the  packing  out  of  Mr.  Hegner,"  de- 
clared Bart,  incautiously. 

"Of  course!"  nodded  Diamond. 

Frank  was  about  to  caution  them  to  speak  lower,  but 
it  was  too  late.  Hegner's  keen  ears  had  heard  enough, 
and  he  whirled  on  the  trio  like  a  tiger. 

"Who  is  it  that  can  knock  the  packing  out  of  Mr. 
Hegner?"  he  harshly  demanded.  "If  it  is  one  of  that 
party,  let  him  step  out!  I'll  give  him  a  chance." 

This  sudden  action  confused  both  Hodge  and  Dia- 
mond, and  Merriwell  was  silent.  The  eyes  of  all  in 
the  room  were  turned  on  the  little  group. 

After  a  moment,  Hegner  laughed  scornfully. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  chaps?"  he  sneeringly 
demanded.  "I  heard  one  of  you  say  that  somebody 
could  knock  the  packing  out  of  me.  If  you  will  bring 
the  gentleman  forward,  I'll  be  happy  to  give  him  a 
chance  to  try." 

Still  the  three  were  silent. 

"Bah!"  cried  Hegner.  "You're  a  lot  of  bluffs!  I 
can  do  you  all  in  turn,  one  after  the  other,  but  there's 
not  one  of  the  lot  who  has  the  nerve  to  put  on  the 
gloves  with  me." 

"If  that  is  what  you  think,  Mr.  Hegner,  it  won't 
take  long  to  show  you  that  you  are  mistaken,"  said 


The  First  Blow.  267 

Frank,  quietly,  as  he  stepped  out.  "I  am  willing  to 
put  on  the  gloves  with  you  for  a  friendly  go." 

"You'll  be  a  snap,"  came  derisively  from  Hegner. 

"Possibly  so;  but  you  can  tell  better  about  that  later 
on." 

Creighton  was  somewhat  disturbed. 

"Hold  on,  fellows!"  he  exclaimed.  "If  you're  going 
to  box,  we  do  not  want  any  hard  feelings  about  it." 

"Don't  let  that  worry  you  as  far  as  I  am  concerned," 
said  Frank,  as  placidly  as  ever.  "Can  I  borrow  a  suit, 
Charlie?" 

"Yes,  you  may  have  mine." 

Frank  followed  Creighton  to  a  dressing-room,  and 
Diamond  went  along.  Hodge  started  to  accompany 
them,  and  then  seemed  to  change  his  mind,  and  re- 
mained behind. 

"It's  too  bad!"  declared  Creighton,  as  soon  as  they 
were  in  the  room.  "I'm  sorry  anything  of  the  kind 
should  happen." 

"I'm  glad  of  it!"  exclaimed  Diamond,  whose  dark 
face  was  flushed  and  who  seemed  to  be  well  satisfied. 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,"  laughed  Frank,  as  he  began  to 
strip  off.  "There's  no  damage  done,  old  man." 

"But  there  may  be.     Hegner  has  an  ugly  temper." 

"Unless  he  can  control  it,  it  will  be  all  the  worse 
for  him." 

"I  don't  know.  You  can't  tell  what  he  will  do." 

"Don't  let  it  worry  you." 

"But  you  do  not  profess  to  be  away  up  in  fighting; 
and  that  fellow  can  fight  like  a  tiger." 


268  The  First  Blow. 

"All  the  same,  I  shall  do  my  best  to  give  him  a 
lively  go." 

Creighton  was  worried,  and  he  did  not  get  over  it 
quickly.  In  his  heart  he  feared  that  Frank  would  get 
so  much  the  worst  of  it  that  he  would  be  regarded  with 
derision,  and  he  had  bragged  a  great  deal  about  Mer- 
riwell  as  an  all-around  athlete. 

Diamond  was  not  worried  at  all.  He  had  the  ut- 
most confidence  in  Frank,  and  he  seemed  elated  to 
think  Merry  was  about  to  get  at  Hegner. 

It  did  not  take  Frank  long  to  strip  and  get  into 
Charlie's  suit.  Then  the  three  came  forth  and  found 
Hegner  waiting  for  them. 

The  fellows  present  had  gathered  around,  and  it 
was  the  almost  universal  opinion  that  Hegner  would 
make  short  work  of  the  fellow  from  Yale. 

Frank  looked  handsome  in  the  sparring  suit.  He 
was  neither  too  stocky  nor  too  thin,  but  was  graceful 
and  supple,  with  a  figure  that  aroused  the  envy  of 
many  a  lad  who  looked  him  over  then. 

"This  is  to  be  a  friendly  bout,  Mr.  Hegner,"  he  said, 
as  he  accepted  the  gloves  which  were  passed  to  him. 
"We  are  not  to  attempt  to  murder  each  other." 

"Oh,  not  at  all !"  said  the  other,  with  a  crafty  twinkle 
in  his  eye.  "There  is  not  much  danger  of  murder  with 
such  gloves  as  these." 

When  the  gloves  were  carefully  put  on,  they  faced 
each  other  and  shook  hands,  after  which  they  were 
at  it  quickly. 

Hegner  danced  away  and  came  in  with  a  bewilder- 
ing rush,  which  was  avoided  with  ease  by  Frank,  who 


The  First  Blow.  269 

gave  him  a  light  body  blow  as  he  passed.  Like  a  cat 
Wallace  came  about  and  was  after  Merriwell  again. 
They  sparred  a  moment,  and  Hegner  tried  to  get  in 
with  a  feint  and  a  straight  left-hand  drive  for  the 
face.  He  put  all  his  force  into  the  blow,  and  it  would 
have  been  a  stunner  had  it  landed ;  but  Frank  guarded 
with  his  right  and  countered  with  his  left,  sending 
Hegner  staggering  backward. 

At  the  very  outset  Merriwell  had  the  best  of  it,  much 
to  the  surprise  of  those  who  had  expected  Hegner  to 
"walk  into  him  with  a  rush."  They  looked  at  each 
other,  and  then  said  over  and  over  that  there  would 
be  a  sudden  change. 

Wallace  seemed  a  bit  dazed  by  the  reception  he  had 
received,  and  he  ground  his  teeth  with  anger.  He  did 
not  delay  about  coming  to  the  scratch,  however,  and 
the  bout  went  on. 

After  a  little  sparring,  both  led  for  the  face,  neither 
guarding,  and  both  blows  told.  Then,  like  a  flash, 
Hegner  dropped  under  and  tried  to  uppercut  Frank, 
thinking  to  do  this  before  Merry  could  recover. 

The  Yale  lad  went  back  with  a  bound,  and  Hegner 
found  nothing  but  air.  In  another  instant  Frank  came 
in  again,  and  they  were  at  it  with  fresh  fury. 

Again  both  led  at  the  face  with  their  left,  but  both 
ducked,  and,  with  crossed  arms,  their  fists  shot  over 
each  other's  shoulder.  They  got  away  instantly,  and 
Hegner  followed  Frank  up,  apparently  determined  to 
press  the  battle. 

"If  he  gets  Heg  angry,  he'll  be  sorry,"  declared  one 
of  the  club  members.  "The  fur  will  fly." 


270  The  First  Blow. 

Diamond,  who  seldom  laughed,  laughed  now. 

"If  Mr.  Hegner  knows  what  is  good  for  him,  he'll 
hold  his  temper,"  he  said.  "If  he  loses  it,  Frank  Mer- 
riwell  will  play  with  him." 

"Rats!"  was  the  return.  "Mr.  Merriwell  won't 
melt  things,  if  he  is  from  Yale.  He's  not  the  only 
shirt  in  the  laundry;  he  can  be  done  up." 

"You  may  be  right,  but  Wallace  Hegner  hasn't  the 
starch  to  do  the  job." 

"Wait  and  see." 

For  some  moments  the  boxers  sparred  craftily,  feel- 
ing for  an  opening,  and  then  Hegner  pushed  things 
again.  But  his  leads  were  met  or  dodged,  and  he 
received  several  sharp  raps  in  return.  One  of  his 
swinging  blows  came  near  landing,  and  it  would  have 
knocked  Frank  down  had  it  reached. 

It  was  plain  enough  that  all  Hegner  wanted  was  a 
good  opportunity  to  strike  Merriwell  with  every  bit  of 
force  at  his  command.  He  tried  the  trick  repeatedly, 
and  the  look  of  rage  increased  in  his  eyes  as  each  at- 
tempt was  a  failure. 

"Merriwell  is  cleverer  than  I  fancied  he  would  be," 
admitted  one  of  the  club  members;  "but  he  can't  last 
Hegner  will  get  him  on  the  run  after  a  while." 

A  lead  with  Hegner's  left  brought  a  sharp  cross- 
counter  from  Merriwell,  and  the  tap  set  the  head  of 
the  young  trainer  ringing.  He  tried  to  get  in  with  his 
right,  and,  instead  of  retreating  a  bit,  was  met  with 
a  right-hand  cross-counter.  Then  he  made  a  savage 
effort  to  uppercut  with  his  left,  but  Frank  ducked  to 
the  right  and  gave  him  a  wind-killer  under  the  heart 


The  First  Blow.  271 

Then  it  was  seen  that  Hegner  was  fast  losing  his 
temper.  He  did  his  best  to  get  Merriwell's  head  under 
his  arm,  but  simply  succeeded  in  receiving  a  tap  on  the 
nose  that  made  the  blood  run  freely. 

Hegner  would  have  gone  on  fighting  with  the  blood 
streaming  down  over  his  mouth,  but  several  fellows 
jumped  in  and  stopped  the  bout  for  the  time,  declaring 
that  he  must  wash  up. 

"I  know  nothing  has  been  said  about  rounds,  but 
this  is  enough  for  the  first  one,"  said  Creighton. 

"Steady,  Heg,  old  man!"  warned  Burk,  as  he  got 
hold  of  the  excited  fellow.  "You  are  losing  your 
head  and  giving  him  all  the  best  of  it.  Take  a  little 
time  to  cool  off,  and  you  will  be  better  off  for  it,  my 
boy." 

So  Hegner  was  led  away  to  wash  off  the  blood,  but 
he  called  to  Frank  that  he  would  return  and  finish  the 
bout. 

With  the  exception  of  Hodge  and  Diamond,  nearly 
every  one  of  the  spectators  was  astonished  by  what 
he  had  seen.  It  was  evident  that  Frank  had  much  the 
best  of  the  battle  thus  far,  but  still  they  could  not 
bring  themselves  to  believe  he  was  a  more  scientific  man 
than  the  trainer  of  Hank  Burk.  Hegner  would  redeem 
himself  quickly  enough  in  the  next  round,  they  were 
sure. 

Frank  was  quite  cool,  smiling  a  bit  as  he  pulled 
off  the  gloves  and  stood  talking  with  Diamond  and 
Hodge.  But  most  remarkable  of  anything,  although, 
with  the  possible  exception  of  Frank,  those  who  saw 
it  did  not  know  it,  was  the  fact  that  there  was  a  smile 


272  The  First  Blow. 

on  the  faces  of  both  Bart  Hodge  and  Jack  Diamond. 
A  smile  was  something  remarkably  rare  for  the  face 
of  either,  and  never  before  had  they  been  known  to 
smile  both  at  the  same  time. 

"Oh,  this  is  great — simply  great !"  muttered  Hodge. 
"Wonder  if  he  isn't  beginning  to  think  I  knew  what 
I  was  talking  about  when  I  said  you  could  knock  the 
packing  out  of  him  ?" 

"Oh,  if  you  had  on  anything  but  those  soft  gloves !" 
said  Diamond.  "But  you  want  to  keep  your  eyes  open. 
Some  of  his  blows  are  wicked.  They'd  shake  you  up 
bad  if  they  landed." 

"Have  you  seen  any  of  them  land  yet?"  asked 
Merry,  in  his  quiet  way. 

"Not  yet ;  and  that's  why  I'm  happy.  This  is  going 
to  be  the  biggest  surprise  that  ever  struck  the  Fair- 
mount  Athletic  Club." 

Hegner  came  hurrying  back,  with  his  companions 
trailing  at  his  heels.  He  had  succeeded  in  stopping  the 
flow  of  blood  very  quickly,  and  now  he  was  palpitating 
to  be  at  Merriwell  again. 

"Come  on!"  he  cried.  "Let's  settle  this  thing  I  I 
haven't  got  warmed  up  yet." 

"Give  it  to  him,  Merry !"  cried  Hodge. 

"Crowd  him  this  time!"  whispered  Diamond. 

Again  the  lads  faced  each  other.  They  began  spar- 
ring slowly,  Hegner  making  an  effort  to  control  his 
temper.  He  led  at  Frank  a  number  of  times,  but 
Merry  broke  ground  quickly  each  time,  and  it  began 
to  look  as  if  he  had  resolved  to  hold  off  and  keep 


The  First  Blow.  273 

away  from  Hegner.  Wallace  decided  this  was  so,  and 
attempted  to  press  the  tussle. 

Right  there  he  made  his  mistake.  Merriwell  had 
been  trying  to  lead  him  on,  and  the  effort  was  success- 
ful. One  of  the  trainer's  rushes  was  met  as  if  Frank 
had  been  nailed  to  the  floor,  and  Hegner  was  sent  spin- 
ning backward  with  two  well-directed  blows,  catch- 
ing his  heels  and  sitting  down  heavily  on  the  floor. 

Somebody  laughed  outright. 

Almost  frothing  at  the  mouth,  the  fallen  fellow 
leaped  to  his  feet.  For  a  moment  he  stood  glaring 
at  Frank,  and  then,  with  a  cry  of  rage,  he  threw  off 
both  gloves  and  leaped  forward! 

"I  know  when  you  try  a  foul!"  he  grated.  "Two 
can  play  at  the  same  trick !" 

Then  he  tried  to  smash  Merriwell  in  the  face  with 
his  bare  fist. 

Frank  was  not  in  the  least  excited,  and  he  did  not 
attempt  to  get  the  gloves  off.  He  met  Hegner,  parried 
his  first  blow,  gave  him  a  jolt  that  drove  him  back  two 
steps,  followed  him  up  and  came  in  with  a  swinging 
smash  that  landed  on  the  fellow's  jaw. 

Hegner  was  literally  lifted  off  his  feet  and  sent  fly- 
ing through  the  air.  His  head  struck  against  the  hard 
wall  with  a  resounding  crack,  and  then  he  dropped  to 
the  floor,  where  he  lay  in  a  limp  and  motionless  heap. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A    SURPRISE    PARTY. 

"I  am  sorry  it  was  necessary  to  strike  him  such  a 
blow,"  said  Frank,  as  he  deliberately  removed  the 
gloves  from  his  hands;  "but  I  call  on  you  all  to  bear 
witness  that  he  came  at  me  with  his  bare  fists,  and  I 
was  forced  to  defend  myself." 

"That's  right,"  said  Charlie  Creighton,  quickly. 
"Hegner  had  no  right  to  do  such  a  thing.  You  would 
not  have  been  to  blame  if  you  had  got  off  your  glove 
and  struck  him." 

To  this  a  number  of  the  club  members  agreed,  while 
some  were  silent.  Hank  Burk  and  two  others  bent  over 
Hegner  and  tried  to  arouse  him,  but  the  fellow  had  been 
severely  stunned  when  his  head  cracked  against  the 
wall  and  it  was  some  time  before  he  seemed  to  realize 
what  had  happened. 

When  he  did  understand,  however,  he  was  furious. 

"Let  me  get  at  him!"  he  madly  cried,  struggling  to 
his  feet.  "I'll  hammer  the  life  out  of  him!  I'll  have 
revenge !" 

"Steady,  Hegner!"  warned  Burk.  "You're  in  no 
condition  to  go  against  him  now.  You  slipped  when 
he  struck  you  the  last  time,  and " 

Hegner  caught  at  this  eagerly. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  slipped !"  he  snarled.  "If  it  hadn't  been 
for  that,  he'd  never  have  got  the  best  of  it.  And  I 


A  Surprise  Party.  275 

fell  and  struck  against  the  wall.  I  can  do  him  any 
time." 

"Of  course  you  can,  old  fellow.  But  you  know  a 
Tjght  will  not  be  allowed  in  this  club.  You'll  have  to 
wait  for  your  opportunity.  It  will  come  all  right" 

Hegner  cooled  down. 

"Take  your  hands  off  me,"  he  said.  "I  won't  touch 
him  again,  but  I  want  to  tell  him  something." 

"Sure  you  won't  get  excited  and  jump  him?" 

"Sure." 

"All  right" 

They  fell  back  and  let  him  go.  He  advanced  toward 
Frank,  and  shook  a  clinched  fist  in  his  face,  harshly 
grating: 

"This  is  all  right,  Merriwell!  I'll  not  forget  you! 
You  can  bet  your  life  I'll  more  than  get  even!" 

"I  simply  defended  myself  from  an  attack  on  your 
part,  and  I  kept  the  gloves  on  all  the  time,  Hegner." 

Frank  stood  with  his  hands  on  his  hips,  looking  the 
raging  fellow  straight  in  the  eye. 

"You  struck  me  foul  before  that.  Oh,  I'll  not  for- 
get your  blow!  I'll  have  another  whirl  with  you!" 

"Well,  let  me  warn  you  to  look  out  for  my  next 
blow.  It  may  be  much  more  severe  than  the  last  one." 

"Bah!  You  are  a  blowhard!  I'll  not  waste  my 
breath  on  you !" 

Then  Hegner  turned  and  walked  away,  accompanied 
by  Burk  and  two  or  three  others. 

Frank  turned  to  Charlie  Creighton,  saying: 

"Old  man,  I  trust  you  will  believe  me  when  I  tell 
you  I  am  very  sorry  this  affair  occurred.  It  was  not 


276  A  Surprise  Party. 

of  my  seeking,  even  though  I  had  no  liking  for 
Hegner." 

"You  are  not  to  blame  in  the  least,  Merriwell,  and 
I  believe  the  majority  of  the  fellows  who  saw  it  will 
say  so.  Eh,  boys?" 

"Not  in  the  least,"  chorused  nearly  all  those  present. 

"Still  I  am  sorry  it  occurred  here,"  asserted  Frank. 
"I  am  a  visitor  here,  and " 

"That  is  a  reason  why  we  should  express  our  regrets, 
not  you,"  said  a  member.  "Hegner  lost  his  head  when 
he  saw  you  were  getting  the  best  of  him.  He  owes  you 
an  apology  for  that  and  for  his  insulting  words  just 
now." 

"Well,"  smiled  Frank,  "I  scarcely  expect  an  apology 
from  him,  for  I  believe  he  is  a  fellow  who  will  nurse 
his  discomfiture  and  brood  over  it,  thinking  he  is  the 
one  wronged.  I  am  glad,  gentlemen,  you  do  not  think 
I  was  at  all  to  blame." 

Then  Frank,  Charlie,  Jack  and  Bart  went  away  to 
the  dressing-room,  where  Merry  stripped  off  and  was 
rubbed  down  with  a  coarse  towel  before  resuming 
street  clothes. 

"Merriwell,"  said  Creighton,  as  he  admired  the  mag- 
nificent figure  of  the  handsome  young  Yale  athlete, 
whose  entire  body  was  glowing  from  the  rub-down,  "I 
want  to  say  right  here  that  I  underestimated  you 
previous  to  this.  I  knew  you  were  a  good  man,  but 
did  not  think  you  could  make  a  monkey  of  a  fellow 
like  Hegner,  who  is  a  semi-professional  prize  fighter. 
I  was  afraid  he  would  be  too  much  for  you,  and  you 


A  Surprise  Party  277 

know  I  have  had  considerable  to  say  about  you  to  the 
fellows." 

"I  didn't  know  but  he  might  be  too  much  for  me 
when  I  put  on  the  gloves  with  him,"  confessed  Frank ; 
"but  that  would  not  have  killed  me.  I  do  not  con- 
sider myself  invincible." 

"Well,  Hegner  was  a  mark  for  you,  and  we  have 
considered  him  as  good  as  anything  going  in  his  class. 
It  made  him  furious  when  he  saw  he  was  no  match 
for  you." 

"In  my  estimation  that  fellow  is  a  fake,"  declared 
Hodge.  "He  puts  up  a  big  bluff,  but " 

"He  may  be  a  good  trainer,"  said  Frank.  "Many  a 
first-class  trainer  is  unable  to  put  up  much  of  a  mill 
when  it  comes  right  down  to  business." 

"Oh,  you  want  to  be  too  easy  with  the  fellow!" 
broke  out  Diamond.  "I  don't  believe  he  is  any  good, 
and  I  am  sure  he  is  crooked." 

"You  have  taken  a  dislike  to  him,  and  that's  why 
you  think  that,"  said  Creighton.  "He  is  all  right  in 
his  way." 

"But  that  is  a  very  poor  way." 

"I  confess  that  he  lost  his  head  and  made  a  fool  of 
himself,  and  I  hope  he  will  realize  it  when  he  cools 
down. 

"If  he  should  apologize  I  presume  you  would  meet 
him  halfway,  Merriwell?" 

"You  may  be  sure  of  that,"  nodded  Frank,  getting 
into  his  clothes.  "I'd  be  a  churl  if  I  didn't." 

"If  he  ever  apologizes  I  am  a  fool,"  grunted  Hodge. 

When  the  boys  came  out  of  the  dressing-room  they 


278  A  Surprise  Party. 

immediately  left  the  club  and  proceeded  directly  to  the 
hotel,  where  the  rest  of  Frank's  friends  were  staying. 

Barney,  Hans,  Ephraim  and  Bruce  were  engaged  in 
a  game  of  pinochle  when  the  others  came  in,  and  the 
Dutch  lad  was  greatly  excited. 

"You  poys  don'd  gif  nopody  a  show !"  he  squawked. 
"On  der  last  handt  Parney  feex  der  carts,  und  dese 
dime  I  haf  a  shance  to  meld  dree  hundret  beenuckle, 
but  you  don't  let  me  done  him.  Uf  dot  peen  fair  blay- 
ing  you  vos  a  liar!" 

"Arrah,  come  off  yer  perch,  ye  Dutch  chaze!"  re- 
torted the  Irish  lad.  "Ye  troied  to  milt  two  quanes  av 
doimonds  an'  two  jacks  av  spades  instid  av  voicy  var- 
sey,  an'  thot  koind  av  a  play  don't  go  in  this  game.'' 

"Vot  vos  der  madder  mit  me  anyvay!"  cried  Hans, 
flourishing  his  cards.  "You  pelief  I  don'd  know  not- 
tings  apout  dot  game,  hey?  I  shown  you  britty  queek, 
py  shimminy!  Vait  a  bit!  I  haf  der  deese  und  a 
hundred  und  vifty  drums,  und  den  I  pelief  you  vill 
laugh  oudt  uf  der  odder  side  uf  my  mouth." 

"Oh,  say!"  grunted  Browning,  with  a  yawn,  "are 
you  chaps  going  to  play  cards?  or  are  you  going  to 
shoot  your  mouths  at  each  other  all  the  time?  I'm 
getting  tired." 

"So  be  I,  b'gosh !"  put  in  Ephraim,  banging  his  fist 
down  on  the  table.  "I  never  played  this  game  before, 
and  yeou  fellers  roped  me  in  for  a  sucker,  but  I'll  show 
ye  what  kind  of  suckers  they  raise  in  Varmont.  I'm 
gittin*  hot  enough  to  melt  the  hull  gol  darn  pack !" 

"There  is  a  lively  game  of  cards,"  laughed  Frank. 


A  Surprise  Party.  279 

"It  is  better  than  a  circus  when  they  get  to  playing 
pinochle." 

The  appearance  of  Frank  and  his  companions  broke 
up  the  game,  for  Hans  protested  that  he  was  being 
cheated,  and  refused  to  play  any  more,  to  the  disgust 
of  the  other  players. 

Creighton  invited  the  entire  party  to  be  present 
at  the  bout  between  Burk  and  Jackson,  and  an  hour 
was  spent  discussing  the  coming  event,  at  the  end  of 
which  time  Charlie  departed,  having  invited  them  all 
to  call  on  him  any  time.  Before  departing,  he  gave 
Frank  and  Bart  a  quiet  tip  that  he  would  be  pleased  to 
see  them  that  evening. 

Nearly  all  the  boys  had  secured  tickets  for  the  Chest- 
nut Street  Theatre  that  evening,  with  the  exception  of 
Frank  and  Bart.  They  were  resolved  to  have  a  pleas- 
ant time  while  they  remained  in  the  Quaker  City. 

Although  it  was  September,  the  evening  proved  to 
be  very  warm,  and,  on  arriving  at  Creighton's,  Frank 
and  Bart  found  something  of  a  lawn  party  was  in 
progress.  The  garden  was  illumined  by  Chinese  lan- 
terns, with  the  exception  of  certain  cozy  corners  where 
comfortable  seats  could  be  found,  and  such  corners 
were  much  sought  by  more  or  less  sentimental  young 
couples. 

An  orchestra  furnished  delightful  music,  and  the 
hum  of  voices  and  sound  of  laughter  could  be  heard 
on  all  sides,  while  pretty  girls  and  manly-looking  lads 
strolled  and  flitted  hither  and  thither  about  the  grounds. 

"Jove!"  muttered  Frank,  as  he  and  Bart  paused  and 


280  A  Surprise  Party. 

looked  about.  "This  is  a  surprise!  Creighton  didn't 
tell  us  what  was  going  to  happen." 

"If  he  had,  I  should  have  spruced  up  a  trifle  more," 
came  ruefully  from  Hodge.  "I  have  half  a  mind  to 
skip  out  now." 

"And  I  have  half  a  mind  to  skip  with  you,"  con- 
fessed Merry. 

"Neither  of  you  shall  do  anything  of  the  kind !"  ex- 
claimed the  voice  of  Mabel  Creighton,  and  then  she, 
accompanied  by  Bessie  Blossom,  swooped  down  on  the 
hesitating  lads  and  made  them  captives. 

"This  is  just  a  jolly  surprise  all  around,"  Mabel  ex- 
plained. "There  is  scarcely  a  soul  present  who  knew 
what  was  going  to  happen.  Charlie  said  it  was  the 
last  opportunity  we'd  have  for  a  lawn  party  this  season, 
and  we  decided  to  improve  the  occasion.  We'll  have  a 
jolly  time." 

"We  always  have  a  splendid  time  here,"  said  Bessie, 
clinging  to  Bart's  arm.  "Charlie  said  you  were  com- 
ing, and  we  have  been  waiting  for  you." 

"And  now  we've  caught  you,  you  can't  get  away," 
laughed  Mabel. 

"Then  we  must  resign  ourselves  to  fate  and  thank 
goodness  we  have  such  charming  captors,"  smiled 
Frank. 

"I  don't  seem  to  care  what  happens  to  me  now," 
Hodge  declared.  "I  can  be  led  to  any  fate  without  a 
struggle." 

"Then  come  on,"  cried  Mabel,  "and  we'll  lead  you 
to  cake  and  ices." 

Soon  they  were  cozily  seated  at  a  small  table,  with 


A  Surprise  Party.  281 

i 

ices  before  them.  As  they  chatted  and  laughed,  an- 
other couple  came  along  and  took  a  table  near  at  hand. 
Before  they  appeared  Frank  recognized  the  saucy  laugh 
of  Fanny  Darling. 

"Oh,  it  was  such  fun!"  she  was  saying,  as  she  sat 
down.  "I  knew  I  could  touch  him  if  I  kept  firing  hot 
shots  in  his  direction,  and  I  was  right.  He  stood  it 
as  long  as  he  could,  and  then  he  shot  back.  But  wait 
till  I  get  another  good  chance.  I  won't  do  a  thing  to 
that  fellow!" 

"He  is  not  worth  wasting  your  time  and  breath  on, 
Miss  Darling,"  said  the  voice  of  Wallace  Hegner. 
"The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  not  to  notice  him." 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  do  that!  There  wouldn't  be  any 
fun  in  it.  He  may  be  smart,  but  there  are  others.  I'd 
like  to  see  you  get  at  him,  Mr.  Hegner.  I'll  bet  you'd 
do  him  up  in  short  order  with  the  gloves." 

"Well — ahem !"  coughed  Hegner,  "I  mean  to  get  at 
him  some  time,  and  I  may  not  wear  the  gloves.  What 
I'd  like  to  do  is  to  leave  the  mark  of  my  fist  on 

Viic_— " 

The  girl  gave  a  startled  exclamation  and  grasped 
Hegner' s  arm,  saying  something  in  a  low  tone,  Heg- 
ner was  heard  to  ask,  "Where?"  and  a  whispered  con- 
versation followed. 

Frank  was  genuinely  amused,  for  he  knew  they  had 
been  speaking  of  him.  A  low,  musical  laugh  came 
from  his  lips,  and  he  observed: 

"It  is  remarkable  how  really  amusing  some  little 
occurrences  are,  Miss  Creighton.  Did  you  ever  notice 
it?" 


282  A  Surprise  Party. 

The  others  of  the  party  had  not  failed  to  take  in  the 
significance  of  the  words  they  had  heard,  and  it  was 
with  no  small  difficulty  that  they  repressed  a  hilarious 
burst  of  laughter.  Indeed  the  girls  were  unable  to 
refrain  entirely  from  laughing,  and  Hodge  smiled 
in  a  weary,  derisive  way,  saying: 

"Some  people  never  know  how  really  amusing  they 
are.  They  go  through  the  world  thinking  they  are 
having  fun  with  everybody  else,  and  all  the  while  they 
are  making  a  show  of  themselves." 

Fanny  Darling  jumped  up  quickly. 

"Come,  Mr.  Hegner,"  she  said,  her  voice  not  quite 
steady;  "I  do  not  care  to  sit  here." 

Hegner  said  something  in  a  growling  tone,  and  they 
moved  away. 

"It's  too  bad,"  said  Frank;  "but  we  are  not  to  blame. 
We  could  not  help  hearing." 

"I  don't  know  as  it's  too  bad,"  declared  Mabel. 
"They  should  be  careful  what  they  say.  I  can't  bear 
Wallace  Hegner,  and  I  do  not  understand  what  there 
is  about  him  that  interests  Fanny.  But  she  is  queer, 
anyway." 

"It  doesn't  strike  me  that  she  is  very  agreeable,"  said 
Bart 

"If  she  takes  a  fancy,  she  can  be  awfully  hateful ;  but 
she  is  good-hearted,  and  when  she  likes  a  person  she 
would  do  anything  in  her  power  for  him.  It's  too 
bad  she  is  so  freakish." 

"She  is  just  saucy  enough  to  be  amusing,"  declared 
Frank.  "I  do  not  mind  it  in  the  least." 

"It  is  evident  she  does  not  know  of  your  little  bout 


A  Surprise  Party.  283 

with  Mr.  Hegner,"  said  Hodge.  "She  thinks  he  can 
do  you." 

"Charlie  told  me  all  about  it,"  put  in  Mabel,  quickly. 
"I'm  so  glad,  for  Wallace  Hegner  has  carried  himself 
with  an  air  that  was  little  short  of  bullying." 

"Perhaps  he  has  learned  a  lesson,"  smiled  Bessie. 

"It  will  take  more  than  that  to  teach  him  a  lesson," 
Mabel  asserted.  "What  he  really  needs  is  a  good  whip- 
ping." 

"Well,  that  is  what  he  is  liable  to  get  if  he  does  not 
let  Merry  alone,"  nodded  Bart. 

A  few  minutes  later  Creighton  appeared. 

"Hello,  fellows!"  he  cheerfully  called.  'Tm  glad 
you  are  here,  and  I  see  you  have  found  the  parties  who 
told  me  to  be  sure  to  invite  you." 

This  confused  Bessie  somewhat,  but  Mabel  imme- 
diately confessed  that  she  had  told  her  brother  to  be 
sure  to  invite  Frank. 

Charlie  sat  down  a  few  moments  and  talked,  and 
then  strolled  away,  saying  he  must  see  that  every  one 
was  enjoying  the  evening. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
A  GIRL'S  REMORSE. 

During1  the  greater  part  of  the  evening  Frank  and 
Mabel  were  together,  while  Bessie  seemed  to  cling  to 
Hodge,  who  appeared  very  well  satisfied. 

Several  of  the  fellows  Frank  and  Bart  had  met  at 
the  club  were  present,  and  it  was  natural  that  all  should 
drift  together  after  a  time,  and  fall  to  discussing  the 
affair  between  Merriwell  and  Hegner. 

The  boys  were  almost  universal  in  positively  declar- 
ing that  Hegner  was  entirely  in  ..the  wrong,  and  Frank 
was  glad  to  know  he  was  not  blamed  for  what  he  had 
done. 

While  they  were  talking  Hegner  drifted  past,  but 
seeing  Merriwell  in  the  group  did  not  pause. 

A  little  later,  however,  Frank  and  his  foe  came  face 
to  face.  Hegner  turned  as  if  to  walk  away,  but  whirled 
back  swiftly,  saying: 

"You  have  had  your  turn;  mine  comes  next.  I 
won't  do  a  thing  to  you!  I'll  make  you  sorry  you 
ever  saw  the  inside  of  the  Fairmount  Athletic  Club!" 

Then  without  waiting-  for  Frank  to  speak  he  has- 
tened away. 

"That  fellow  is  full  of  threats,"  thought  Merry; 
"and  I  fancy  he  means  to  make  them  good  if  he  gets 
a  chance.  I  must  keep  my  eyes  open,  for  he  would 
strike  a  fellow  behind  his  back." 


A  Girl's  Remorse.  285 

He  found  Bart  talking  to  Bessie  and  Mabel,  and  they 
all  went  over  to  a  distant  part  of  the  grounds,  where 
there  were  to  be  fireworks  on  the  lawn. 

There  was  music,  laughter  and  song.  It  was  a  night 
for  youth  and  happiness.  It  was  a  night  when  a  hand 
touch,  the  perfume  of  a  breath,  a  half-understood  whis- 
per, the  rustle  of  the  leaves  caused  the  blood  to  flow 
swift  and  warm  in  youthful  veins. 

The  fireworks  consisted  mainly  of  mines,  Roman 
candles  and  red  fire.  There  were  a  few  pinwheels,  but 
no  rockets. 

Wallace  Hegner  and  Fanny  Darling  were  together 
again.  With  her  usual  daring,  the  girl  was  touching 
off  Roman  candles  and  laughing  merrily.  She  seemed 
to  be  enjoying  herself  thoroughly,  but  it  seemed  cer- 
tain that  she  had  avoided  Frank  since  he  had  overheard 
her  talking  with  Hegner  the  first  of  the  evening. 

The  musicians  played  a  lively  air  as  the  candles 
burned,  the  mines  exploded,  the  pinwheels  buzzed,  and 
the  red  fire  glared.  Fanny  Darling  ran  across  the  lawn 
swinging  a  Roman  candle  and  letting  the  fireballs  pop 
into  the  air.  Hegner  was  close  behind  her,  with  a 
glowing  stick  of  fire  in  either  hand. 

Suddenly  there  -was  a  scream  of  terror,  followed  by 
a  chorus  of  shrieks  and  hoarse  cries.  Thee  it  wa:- 
seen  that  Fanny's  dress  was  blazing. 

The  girls  scattered  and  fled  from  her,  while  the  boys 
stood  still  for  the  moment  and  stared  at  her  stupidly. 
Hegner  dropped  both  sticks  of  red  fire,  but  fell  back, 
calling  for  water. 

Through  the  circle  burst  a  youth  who  stripped  off  his 


286  A  Girl's  Remorse. 

coat  as  he  ran.  He  leaped  straight  toward  the  im- 
periled girl,  who  was  vainly  trying  to  beat  out  the 
flames  with  her  hands,  a  look  of  terror  pitiful  to  see 
upon  her  face. 

"Steady,  Miss  Darling!"  called  the  voice  of  Frank 
Merriwell.  "Don't  resist  me  and  I  will  save  you !" 

He  flung  the  coat  about  her,  lifted  her,  dropped  her 
upon  the  grass,  knelt  over  her,  rolled  her,  smothered 
the  flames  and  beat  them  out  with  his  hands. 

It  was  all  over  in  a  moment.  He  had  extinguished 
the  fire  before  others  could  think  to  move.  As  they 
gathered  around  he  lifted  her  to  her  feet,  anxiously 
asking : 

"Are  you  severely  burned,  Miss  Darling?  I  sin- 
cerely hope  you  are  not.  I  reached  you  as  soon  as 
possible." 

She  tried  to  speak,  and  her  eyes  met  his.  She 
choked,  her  chin  quivered,  and  she  burst  into  tears, 
sobbing : 

"Oh,  Mr.  Merriwell!" 

It  was  all  she  could  say,  but  there  was  a  world  of 
self-reproach,  shame  and  remorse  in  that  exclamation. 

It  was  found  that  Fanny  Darling  had  been  burned, 
but  her  injuries  were  not  severe.  In  beating  out  the 
flames  Frank  had  burned  his  hands,  but  there  was  a 
doctor  present  who  attended  to  the  girl  and  her  res- 
cuer. 

Frank's  hands  were  covered  with  a  coating  of  creamy 
stuff  and  bound  up  with  handkerchiefs. 

"I  think  that  will  prevent  them  from  blistering," 


A  Girl's  Remorse.  287 

said  the  doctor.  "I  always  take  a  small  case  with  me 
wherever  I  go,  and  it  is  fortunate  I  was  here  to-night." 

"Oh,  I  am  all  right!"  laughed  Merry;  "but  I  sin- 
cerely hope  Miss  Darling  was  not  injured  much.  I 
reached  her  as  soon  as  possible." 

"It  is  almost  certain  you  saved  her  life,  and  I  am 
sure  you  prevented  her  from  being  disfigured  as  long 
as  she  lives,"  declared  the  physician.  "She  has  much 
to  thank  you  for." 

In  another  room,  with  her  girl  friends  hovering 
about  her,  Fanny  Darling  distinctly  heard  what  the 
doctor  said,  for  there  was  an  open  door  between  the 
two  rooms. 

Her  face  was  very  pale,  and  she  bit  her  lip  till  the 
blood  started,  while  her  hands  were  tightly  clinched. 

"Is  the  pain  so  terrible,  Fanny?"  tenderly  asked 
Mabel  Creighton. 

"Pain?    What  pain?" 

"Why,  the  pain  of  your  burns." 

"That's  nothing.     It  was  another  pain  that  I  felt." 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  they  saw 
a  tear  steal  down  between  her  fingers,  although  she 
made  no  sound. 

"Mr.  Hegner  wishes  to  see  you,"  said  Bessie  Blos- 
som. "He  is  at  the  door,  and  he  is  very  anxious  to 
learn  from  your  lips  just  how  you  are." 

Fanny's  hands  dropped,  and  her  face  grew  crimson. 

"Tell  Mr.  Hegner  that  I  do  not  care  to  see  him!" 
she  exclaimed. 

So  Wallace  Hegner  was  turned  from  the  door,  much 
to  his  rage  and  chagrin. 


288  A  Girl's  Remorse. 

"I  suppose  she  wouldn't  see  me  because  I  didn't  hap- 
pen to  be  the  one  to  put  out  the  fire,"  he  grated,  as  he 
left  the  house.  "What  could  I  do?  My  coat  was  too 
thin.  It  was  just  that  Merriwell's  confounded  luck 
to  jump  in  there  and  do  the  trick.  Oh,  but  I'm  going 
to  settle  with  him !" 

After  a  time  the  most  of  the  girls  left  the  room,  and 
Fanny  was  alone  with  Mabel  and  Bessie.  Then  it  was 
that  she  burst  into  tears,  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  were 
breaking. 

Both  girls  tried  to  comfort  her. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Fanny,  dear?"  asked  Bessie; 
kneeling  beside  her.  "I  suppose  your  nerves  are  all 
shaken." 

"She  is  almost  hysterical,  poor  girl!"  said  Mabel. 
"And  I  do  not  wonder  a  bit. 

"Who  wouldn't  be,  after  such  a  narrow  escape?" 

"It — it's — not — that!"  sobbed  Fanny. 

"Not  that?" 

"No." 

"Then  what  can  be  the  matter  with  you,  dear?" 

"Oh,  girls — I'm — I'm  just  the  meanest  creature  in 
the — whole  world — and  I  just — just  hate  and  despise 
myself!  So  there!" 

Mabel  and  Bessie  looked  at  each  other  in  astonish- 
ment 

"You  must  be  silly,  Fanny!  You  are  nothing  of 
the  sort!"  cried  Mabel. 

"Yes,  I  am !"  sharply  declared  Fanny,  using  a  hand- 
kerchief to  dry  her  tears.  "I  am  just  as  mean  and 


A  Girl's  Remorse.  289 

hateful  as  I  can  be,  and  I  wish  I  were  dead  1  It  would 
have  been  a  good  thing  if  I'd  burned !" 

Mabel  and  Bessie  looked  horrified. 

"It's  dreadful!"  they  exclaimed. 

"I  don't  care,  it's  true!"  cried  Fanny.  "Just  think 
of  the  mean,  hateful  things  I  said  to  Frank  Merriwell, 
and  then  think  what  he  did  for  me!  And  I  did  not 
mean  those  things  at  all !  Oh,  I'm  wicked,  and  I  know 
it!" 

"Why,  Fanny!  Mr.  Merriwell  did  not  mind  what 
you  said,"  assured  Mabel,  hoping  to  pacify  her  in  that 
manner. 

"He  heard  them,  and  he  must  think  me  the  meanest, 
hatefulest  creature  alive.  I  shall  never  dare  to  look 
him  in  the  face  again — never!" 

After  a  long  time  her  agitation  subsided,  and  then, 
of  a  sudden,  she  exclaimed : 

"Girls,  do  you  know  what  I  am  going  to  do?" 

"No;  of  course  not." 

"I  am  going  to  ask  Frank  Merriwell's  pardon  on 
my  knees !  I  will  do  it  now !" 

Both  Mabel  and  Bessie  were  so  astonished  that  they 
could  hardly  speak.  The  idea  of  Fanny  Darling  getting 
on  her  knees  to  any  one  was  utterly  preposterous.  But 
there  seemed  a  most  astonishing  change  in  her,  and 
now  she  started  to  find  Frank. 

But  Frank  was  gone.  Charlie  Creighton  came  in 
and  told  the  girls  that  Frank  and  Bart  had  departed  to 
their  hotel. 

"Oh,  it's  too  bad!"  cried  Fanny.  "I  should  have 
gone  to  him  at  once,  but  truly  I  was  so  ashamed  that 


290  A  Girl's  Remorse. 

I  could  not  face  him.  Tell  me,  Charlie,  was  he  burned 
much?" 

"Well,  the  doctor  could  not  tell  just  how  severe  the 
burns  on  his  hands  might  prove  to  be." 

"Well,  the  very  next  time  I  see  him  I'll  do  my  best 
to  let  him  know  I  appreciate  his  heroism,"  said  Fanny. 

In  the  meantime  Frank  and  Bart  had  taken  a  car  and 
were  on  their  way  to  the  Continental.  Bart  showed 
considerable  agitation  concerning  Merry's  hands. 

"I  hope  you  will  not  be  knocked  out  so  you'll  be  un- 
able to  go  in  for  athletics  the  same  as  usual  this  fall, 
Merry,"  said  Hodge.  "What  would  the  Yale  eleven 
do  without  you?" 

"They  would  get  some  other  man  equally  as  good," 
smiled  Frank. 

"They  couldn't!"  cried  Hodge,  loyally.  "That 
would  be  an  impossibility!" 

"It  can't  be  you  really  mean  that,  old  man?" 

"Of  course  I  do." 

"Then  you  are  foolish.  Why,  Hodge,  there  are 
hundreds  of  men  just  as  good  as  yours  truly.  I  know 
I  am  a  good  player,  but  I  also  know  there  are  others." 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  they  left  the  car  and 
started  to  walk  the  short  distance  to  the  hotel.  Frank 
led  the  way  by  a  short  cut  through  a  narrow  street, 
which  was  rather  dark  and  deserted. 

"There  are  not  many  fellows  who  would  have  done 
what  you  did  to-night  for  a  girl  who  had  treated  them 
as  Miss  Darling  treated  you,"  said  Bart. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know !  It  seems  to  me  that  almost  any 
fellow  would  have  done  that" 


A  Girl's  Remorse.  291 

"Hegner  was  with  her,  but  he  did  not  lift  a  hand  to 
save  her." 

"It  is  plain  he  did  not  know  what  to  do.  He  did  not 
think  quickly  enough." 

"That  is  just  it,  Merry.  In  any  emergency  you  think 
of  just  the  right  thing  to  do,  and  that  is  what  makes 
you  such  a  good  man.  I  say  Yale  can't  afford  to  lose 
you  from  her  eleven,  and  I  hope  you  will  not  be  dam- 
aged so  it  will  knock  you  out." 

At  that  instant  five  or  six  dark  forms  suddenly 
darted  out  from  both  sides  of  the  street  and  sur- 
rounded the  boys.  A  voice  snarled : 

"When  we  are  through  with  him  he'll  be  damaged 
so  he  won't  play  football  this  season !" 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

A  FIGHT  AGAINST  ODDS. 

"Ambushed!" 

"Trapped!" 

Frank  and  Bart  uttered  the  exclamations  as  those 
dark  forms  gathered  around  them  and  they  heard  that 
snarling  voice. 

At  a  glance  they  saw  the  faces  of  their  assailants 
were  hidden  by  handkerchiefs  which  had  been  tied 
across  them  to  their  eyes,  and  one  of  them  had  turned 
his  coat  wrong  side  out. 

The  one  with  the  turned  coat  seemed  to  be  the  leader 
of  the  party. 

"Get  around  them,  fellows!"  he  ordered,  sharply. 
"Don't  let  them  skip!" 

"We're  in  for  it!"  grated  Hodge. 

"It  looks  that  way,"  admitted  Frank. 

"We'll  have  to  fight!" 

"Sure." 

In  another  moment  they  had  placed  themselves  back 
to  back,  and  were  ready  to  meet  the  assault  of  the 
young  thugs  of  the  street. 

"So  you'll  fight,  will  you?"  grated  the  leader. 
"Well,  you  won't  stand  much  show  with  this  crowd. 
We  can  knock  the  packing  out  of  you  in  short  order." 

"Don't  be  so  sure  of  that,"  said  Frank,  with  that 
singular  laugh  which  Hodge  knew  indicated  Merry 


A  Fight  Against  Odds.  293 

was  thoroughly  aroused.  "You  may  not  find  it  such 
a  snap." 

"We  are  three  to  your  one." 

"Even  then  you  are  not  so  many." 

"The  trouble  with  you  is  that  you  think  yourself 
a  great  deal  smarter  than  you  are.  Well,  you'll  change 
your  mind  after  this.  To-morrow  you'll  be  in  a  hos- 
pital." 

"You  may  be  in  a  coffin,  my  fine  fellow." 

The  masked  ruffians  had  surrounded  Frank  and 
Bart,  and  were  ready  for  the  attack.  Their  leader  gave 
the  word : 

"At  'em,  boys!  Hammer  'em!  Knock  'em  down 
and  kick  'em !" 

Then  the  assault  was  made  with  a  rush  that  was 
hard  to  withstand.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  that 
Merry  and  Hodge  would  be  swept  off  their  feet,  over- 
thrown, crushed. 

Hodge  was  a  fighter.  He  had  a  temper  like  a  cold 
chisel,  and  he  did  not  fear  anything  that  walked. 
Frank  knew  the  caliber  of  his  Fardale  chum,  and  he 
was  glad  that  Hodge  happened  to  be  with  him. 

A  big  fellow  got  Bart  by  the  throat,  after  Hodge 
had  sent  two  others  reeling  backward  before  cracking 
blows,  and  for  some  seconds  it  seemed  that  Frank's 
friend  would  be  overcome. 

But  Bart  broke  the  hold  of  his  assailant,  gave  him  a 
terrible  jab  in  the  wind,  and  then  smashed  him  under 
the  ear,  when  he  doubled  over.  That  put  him  out  of 
the  fight  for  a  few  moments  at  least. 

The  others  were  ready  to  come  at  Bart  again  by  this 


394  A  Fight  Against  Odds. 

time  They  were  cursing  in  a  manner  that  told  they 
were  genuine  toughs  of  the  slums. 

"Kill  der  bloke!"  snarled  one. 

"Give  it  to  him,  Bill !"  howled  the  other. 

"That's  right!"  cried  Hodge,  fiercely.  "Come  right 
on  and  give  it  to  me!  You'll  find  me  here!" 

One  of  them  succeeded  in  striking  him  a  blow  on 
the  cheek  that  cut  his  face  and  started  the  blood  to 
flowing;  but  that  did  not  daze  Bart  for  a  second,  and 
he  got  a  kick  at  the  ruffian  that  doubled  him  over  and 
made  him  gasp  and  groan. 

Frank  could  use  his  feet,  as  well  as  his  hands.  He 
had  learned  the  trick  in  France,  where  a  style  of  boxing 
with  the  feet  is  taught.  When  a  man  can  strike  and 
kick  with  equal  skill  he  is  a  dangerous  antagonist,  and 
it  was  not  long  before  the  ruffians  found  they  had  a 
Tartar  in  Merriwell. 

Frank  watched  his  chance  and  then  tried  to  tear  the 
handkerchief  from  the  face  of  the  leader  of  the  gang, 
but  he  failed  in  this,  although  he  knocked  the  fellow's 
hat  from  his  head. 

"I  know  you  just  the  same!"  cried  Merry.  "You 
have  proved  to  be  just  the  kind  of  a  fellow  I  thought 
you  were!" 

"You  know  too  much !"  the  fellow  flung  back.  "You 
won't  know  so  much  in  a  few  minutes !" 

One  of  the  other  ruffians  came  in  on  Frank,  who 
made  a  feint  to  strike,  and  then  kicked  him  in  the 
neck  with  such  violence  that  he  went  down  as  if  he 
had  been  shot.  He  lay  on  the  ground  like  a  log,  and 
it  was  plain  he  had  been  knocked  out. 


A  Fight  Against  Odds.  295 

"Blazes!"  howled  one  of  the  others.  "He's  knocked 
Shiner  out!" 

"All  I  want  is  a  good  chance  at  you,"  laughed  Mer- 
riwell.  "You'll  get  the  same  dose,  my  fine  fellow!" 

"Hammer  him — hammer  him!"  panted  the  leader. 
"Get  in  on  him  quick !  We  must  do  this  job  before  the 
police  come !" 

He  rushed  at  Frank,  who  attempted  to  kick  him 
over,  as  he  had  the  other  chap,  but  failed,  for  the  fel- 
low dodged.  In  a  moment  two  of  them  were  pressing 
Frank  close. 

"Here's  where  we  do  a  little  in-fighting,"  said 
Merry,  as  if  he  were  jubilant  over  the  prospect 

It  was  hot  for  some  seconds,  but  it  proved  too  hot 
for  Merriwell's  assailants.  Frank  had  a  way  of  caus- 
ing them  to  bother  each  other,  and  it  sometimes  seemed 
that  one  could  have  done  much  better  against  him. 

But  Frank  was  not  to  escape  without  a  scratch.  He 
was  unable  to  watch  every  enemy,  and  a  blow  on  the 
ear  made  his  head  ring  and  staggered  him. 

"Now  we  have  him !"  shouted  the  leader. 

They  sprang  upon  him,  and  Frank  found  himself 
forced  to  his  knees. 

"Down  with  him!" 

He  fought  them  off,  but  they  assailed  him  like  furi- 
ous tigers.  He  was  struck  repeatedly  while  on  his 
knees. 

It  happened  that  Hodge  had  beaten  off  his  foes  for 
a  moment,  and  he  saw  Merry's  peril.  With  a  growl 
such  as  might  have  issued  from  the  throat  of  a  wild 
beast,  he  whirled  to  aid  his  friend. 


296  A  Fight  Against  Odds. 

Crack !  crack ! — with  two  blows  Bart  sent  two  fellows 
spinning,  and  then  he  dragged  Frank  to  his  feet. 

"Much  hurt?"  he  asked. 

"No,  not  a  bit,"  was  the  cool  answer. 

The  ruffians  were  astounded  by  the  fight  made  by 
the  two  fellows  they  had  expected  to  overcome  with 
ease.  They  had  never  before  struck  anything  just  like 
that,  and,  for  a  moment,  they  hesitated. 

The  leader,  however,  was  raving  like  a  madman, 
made  insanely  furious  by  the  rebuff. 

"At  'em  again !  at  'em  again !"  he  fumed.  "I'll  make 
it  ten  more  each.  Do  'em  up  some  way !" 

A  scornful  laugh  came  from  Frank. 

"So  these  are  your  hired  bruisers,  my  fine  chap!" 
he  cried.  "Well,  they  are  fit  associates  for  a  creature 
of  your  low  instincts.  It's  a  hundred  to  one  you  land 
behind  the  bars  with  the  rest  of  them." 

The  fellow  urged  his  satellites  to  a  fresh  attack,  and 
they  came  at  the  boys  once  more.  The  one  Frank 
kicked  had  recovered  and  joined  in  the  new  assault, 
although  he  took  care  not  to  get  another  one  from 
Merry's  feet,  for  which  he  had  a  healthy  respect. 

The  fight  was  resumed  with  fresh  vigor,  but  still 
Frank  and  Bart  held  their  own,  for  they  had  been  given 
a  few  moments  to  recover  their  breath. 

"Why,  this  is  a  regular  cinch !"  cried  Frank  as  with 
a  corking  left-hander  he  bowled  one  of  the  masked 
rascals  over.  "I  haven't  struck  so  much  sport  as  this 
in  an  age!  Hit  hard,  Bart — hit  hard!" 

No  need  to  tell  Hodge  to  hit  hard ;  he  was  putting 
in  his  best  licks,  and  they  were  counting.  Blood  was 


A  Fight  Against  Odds.  297 

running  down  his  face,  but  he  did  not  realize  he  had 
been  touched  at  all. 

Again  Frank  resorted  to  the  use  of  his  feet,  and  he 
sent  one  chap  back  with  a  sharp  kick  in  the  middle, 
while  another  caught  his  heel  on  the  back. 

Then  it  was  that  one  of  the  ruffians  cried : 

"We  can't  do  'em  without  the  others.  Call  the 
guards !" 

A  shrill  whistle  cut  the  air,  and  it  was  answered  from 
up  and  down  the  street. 

"There  are  more  coming,  Bart!"  cried  Merriwell. 
"Put  as  many  of  these  fellows  out  of  the  game  as  you 
can  before  the  others  get  here!  This  has  turned  out 
to  be  a  very  warm  evening!" 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 
MERRI WELL'S  CLOSE  CALL. 

Frank  had  quite  forgotten  his  burned  hands;  there 
was  no  time  to  think  of  them  then.  Had  both  arms 
been  in  splints,  he  would  have  tried  to  defend  himself 
just  the  same. 

Down  the  street  came  a  running  figure ;  up  the  street 
came  another.  They  were  two  of  the  gang,  who  had 
been  set  to  watch  for  the  approach  of  officers. 

Although  there  were  three  of  the  ruffians  to  one  of 
the  boys  they  had  attacked,  the  gang  had  been  forced 
to  call  on  the  watchers  for  assistance ! 

"What's  the  matter?"  panted  one,  as  he  came  up. 
"You're  making  an  awful  racket!  Can't  you  do  them 
two  stiffs?" 

"Get  at  'em!"  ordered  the  fellow  whose  coat  was 
turned.  "It'll  take  all  of  us  to  do  the  job." 

"All  of  you  may  not  be  able  to  do  it,"  cried  Merry. 

But  the  two  fellows  who  had  been  on  guard  were 
fresh,  and  they  pitched  in  fiercely.  In  a  short  time 
Bart  and  Frank  found  they  were  being  overpowered. 
They  were  blinded  by  blows  and  beaten  breathless,  but 
still  they  fought. 

Hark!  What  was  that?  The  sound  of  singing 
from  a  distance — the  old  familiar  song: 


Merriwell's  Close  Call.  299 

"Here's  to  good  Old  Yale— drink  it  down ! 
Here's  to  good  Old  Yale— drink  it  down! 
Here's  to  good  Old  Yale, 
She's  so  hearty  and  so  hale — 
Drink  it  down!     Drink  it  down!  down!  down!" 

From  Frank  Merriwell's  lips  pealed  a  wild  cry — the 
Yale  yell.  It  echoed  along  the  street,  and  the  distant 
singing  stopped.  The  cry  was  answered! 

"Help,  fellows!" 

There  was  another  answer,  and  soon  running  feet 
were  heard. 

"A  thousand  furies!"  snarled  the  leader  of  the  ruf- 
fians. "Those  other  fellows  are  coming!" 

Then  he  made  a  desperate  lunge  at  Frank,  who  saw 
something  bright  glitter  in  his  fingers.  Merriwell 
avoided  the  thrust,  but  heard  a  cutting  sound  as  the 
bright  instrument  slashed  his  coat. 

Frank  knew  the  wretch  had  struck  at  him  with  an 
open  knife,  and  again  he  snatched  for  that  handker- 
chief. This  time  he  caught  it  and  tore  it  from  the  fel- 
low's face. 

But  the  leader  of  the  ruffians  turned  and  ran  like  a 
deer.  Merry  would  have  followed,  but,  in  trying  to 
do  so,  he  stumbled  over  one  of  the  gang  who  had  been 
knocked  down. 

This  fellow  grappled  with  Frank,  and  then  Mulloy, 
Diamond,  Rattleton,  Gallup,  Browning  and  Dunner- 
wust  came  running  up. 

"Pwhat's  this?"  cried  Barney,  excitedly.  "Is  it  a 
schrap,  an'  Oi  not  in  it?  Did  yez  ivver  see  th'  loikea 
avthis!" 


300  Merri well's  Close  Call. 

"Wai,  gol  darn  it  all!"  puffed  Ephralm.  "If  this 
don't  beat  all  natur !  Where's  the  rest  of  um  ?" 

"They  ran  when  they  heard  you  coming,"  said 
Frank;  "but  I  have  this  chap  all  right." 

"Shimminy  Christmas!"  gurgled  Hans.  "Uf  I 
hadn't  peen  here  before,  dem  vellers  vould  peen  licked 
britty  queek,  ain'd  id!  Ven  I  heard  dem  comin'  they 
all  rund  avay  off.  I  pet  your  life  dey  known  vot  vas 
coot  vor  mineseluf.  Yaw!" 

"Blame  the  luck!"  grunted  Browning.  "Think  of 
running  like  that  and  then  arriving  too  late  to  get  into 
the  fight !  It's  disgusting !" 

"Who  were  they,  Frank?"  asked  Diamond. 

"I  think  I  know  the  leader,  and  I  have  the  hand- 
kerchief he  had  tied  over  his  face.  As  for  this  fel- 
low   No,  you  don't!" 

The  one  Merry  was  holding  made  a  desperate  at- 
tempt to  break  away,  but  was  prevented. 

And,  now  the  fight  was  over,  a  policeman  ap- 
proached, saw  the  crowd,  and  rapped  a  call  for  assist- 
ance. Within  a  minute  three  officers  were  on  the  spot. 

Frank  and  Bart  told  their  story.  At  first  the  officers 
were  inclined  to  discredit  it,  thinking  there  had  been  a 
street  row  among  those  found  there  by  them,  but  when 
they  saw  Merriwell's  captive  and  obtained  a  good  look 
at  the  fellow's  face  one  of  them  cried : 

"It's  Shiner  Gregg!  He  belongs  to  the  Stone  Alley 
gang." 

Then  Frank  showed  where  his  coat  had  been  slit 
open  bv  a  knife,  told  where  he  was  stopping,  and  sat- 


Merri well's  Close  Call.  301 

isfied  the  officers  that  he  was  telling  nothing  but  the 
truth. 

Two  of  the  officers  took  Shiner  Gregg  to  a  police 
station,  while  another  accompanied  the  boys  to  the 
hotel,  where  he  satisfied  himself  that  they  had  told 
the  truth,  and  made  Merriwell  and  Hodge  promise  to 
appear  against  Gregg. 

After  washing  up,  Frank  and  Bart  found  they  were 
not  severely  scarred;  but  that  it  had  been  a  close  call 
for  Merry  was  made  evident  by  the  slash  in  his  coat. 

"Well,"  said  Frank,  as  he  held  up  the  coat  and 
looked  at  it  ruefully,  "that  finished  your  career,  but  you 
did  one  good  job  to-night.  You  smothered  the  fire 
that  would  have  burned  a  very  saucy  and  very  attract- 
ive young  lady.  I  think  I  will  keep  you  as  a  reminder 
of  the  occasion." 

"It's  fortunate  we  were  out  strolling  around  after 
leaving  the  theatre,"  said  Rattleton.  "We  were  feel- 
ing rather  gay,  and  did  not  seem  to  want  to  turn  in  so 
early." 

"New  Yorkers  say  Philadelphia  is  slow,"  grunted 
Browning;  "but  I'll  be  hanged  if  it  doesn't  seem  to  be 
a  hot  town!  I  think  New  Yorkers  are  sore  on  the 
place." 

"Slow,"  drawled  Ephraim  Gallup,  with  a  queer 
twist  of  his  homely  face.  "Thutteration !  There's 
more  goin'  on  here  than  there  ever  was  araound  aour 
taown  up  in  Varmont,  an'  we  uster  think  that  was 
purty  gosh-darn  lively  sometimes.  Once  we  had  a 
dorg  fight,  a  thunderstorm  an'  Jeduthin  Blodgett's 
chimbney  burnt  aout,  all  in  one  afternoon,  an'  I  tell 


302  Merriwell's  Close  Call. 

yeou  things  was  all  fired  lively  up  raound  them  dig- 
gin's.  But  I  swan  Philadelfy  has  more  goin'  on  than 
that  'most  any  day  but  Sunday." 

Some  of  the  boys  laughed  at  this,  but  Hans  stared 
at  Ephraim  in  a  bewildered  way. 

"Dot  must  peen  a  lifely  down,"  he  said.  "Uf  you 
vos  to  life  there  a  great  vile  I  oxbect  id  vould  turn  my 
hair  gray." 

For  a  long  time  the  boys  talked  over  the  street  en- 
counter, and  then  Frank  produced  the  handkerchief  he 
had  snatched  from  the  face  of  the  leader  of  the  ruf- 
fians. After  looking  it  over  carefully  he  uttered  an  ex- 
clamation. 

"What  is  it,  Merry?"  asked  Rattleton. 

"I  have  made  a  discovery,"  said  Merriwell,  with  a 
look  of  satisfaction,  as  he  restored  the  handkerchief  to 
his  pocket. 

"What  sort  of  a  discovery?" 

"One  that  may  prove  of  great  importance." 

"Don't  be  so  mysterious  about  it,"  urged  Diamond. 
"Tell  us  what  you  have  discovered." 

"Wait,"  said  Frank.     "I  will  tell  you  later." 

"Do  you  think  you  know  any  of  the  ruffians  who 
assaulted  you  besides  the  one  caught?" 

"I  fancy  so.  Let's  go  to  bed  now.  We  can  talk  this 
over  to-morrow." 

Frank  went  to  bed  and  slept  as  well  as  if  nothing 
serious  had  happened. 

This  was  not  the  case  with  Hodge.  His  blood  had 
not  cooled,  and  he  turned,  twisted,  muttered  and  grated 
his  teeth  in  his  sleep.  Diamond,  who  slept  with  him, 


Merriwell's  Close  Call.  303 

got  out  of  bed,  went  into  the  room  where  Hans  and 
Ephraim  were  sleeping  together,  awoke  the  Dutch  boy, 
and  sternly  ordered  him  to  go  into  the  other  room  and 
sleep  with  Hodge. 

Dunnerwust  protested  some,  but  as  he  was  stupefied 
with  sleep  and  being  somewhat  afraid  of  the  Virginian, 
he  finally  obeyed. 

Toward  morning  there  was  a  wild  outcry  in  that 
room,  a  thump  on  the  floor  and  sounds  of  a  struggle. 
Then  Hans  was  heard  calling : 

"Hellup!  hellup!  Somepody  gome  und  took  him 
off !  Uf  you  don'd  gome  und  done  dot  britty  queek  he 
peen  sure  to  kilt  himseluf!  Hellup!  Fire!" 

Several  of  the  boys  rushed  into  the  room,  and  when 
they  turned  on  the  light,  an  astonishing  spectacle  was 
revealed. 

Hans  and  Bart  were  struggling  on  the  floor,  all 
tangled  up  in  the  clothes  they  had  dragged  from  the 
bed.  Hodge  was  striking  out  wildly,  muttering: 

"Come  on !  come  on !  We  are  enough  for  you ! 
Three  to  one  is  small  odds!  Back  to  back,  Merry! 
We'll  fight  as  long  as  we  can  stand !  They  can't  lick 
us!  They  never  could  lick  us  at  Fardale,  Merry!" 

One  of  his  fists  landed  on  the  Dutch  boy's  ear,  ai/d 
Hans  squawked  louder  than  ever. 

"Hoch,  I  peen  gone  grazy !"  he  cried.  "Took  him  off 
I  toldt  you!  Uf  you  don'd  took  him  off  he  vill  kilt 
mineseluf!  Murter!  Id  hurts  heem  ven  he  hits  me 
dot  vay!" 

Frank  and  Jack  grasped  them  and  dragged  them 


304  Merri well's  Close  Call. 

apart,  but  Hodge  turned  on  Diamond  and  gave  him  a 
crack  that  sent  him  up  against  the  wall. 

"Come  on,  the  whole  of  you!"  he  shouted.  "You 
can't  do  us  up!  Give  it  to  them,  Merry!" 

Hans  broke  away  and  tried  to  crawl  under  the  bed, 
wildly  crying: 

"Oxcuse  me  vile  I  look  vor  my  vatch!  Id  might 
step  on  somepody  uf  I  don'd  took  care  uf  id." 

Merriwell  made  a  leap  and  caught  hold  of  Hodge, 
whom  he  ran  up  against  the  wall,  where  he  held  him, 
speaking  sharply : 

"Steady,  Bart,  old  man!  It's  all  over!  We  have 
cleaned  out  the  whole  gang." 

Bart  struggled  a  moment,  and  then  a  wondering 
light  came  into  his  eyes,  which  had  been  wide  open 
and  staring  all  the  while.  His  hands  dropped  at  his 
sides,  and  he  ceased  to  struggle. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  faintly  asked. 

"You  have  had  a  rather  lively  touch  of  nightmare," 
explained  Merry. 

"Nighdtmares !"  cried  Hans  from  under  the  bed,  in 
a  smothered  voice.  "Uf  he  didn'd  haf  a  whole  heardt 
of  vild  hosses  you  vos  a  liar!" 

The  racket  had  aroused  a  number  of  guests,  and  the 
night  watchman  and  two  bellboys  appeared.  It  took 
considerable  smooth  talk  from  Frank  to  convince  them 
that  murder  had  not  been  attempted  in  that  room,  but 
the  curious  ones  departed  at  last,  although  there  were 
mutterings  of  "disgraceful,"  "an  outrage"  and  "ought 
to  be  fired." 

Frank  laughed  when  it  was  all  over. 


Merriwell's  Close  Call.  305 

"We'll  be  lucky  if  we  are  not  fired  in  the  morning," 
he  said. 

Hans  refused  to  go  to  bed  with  Bart  again,  when 
he  had  been  dragged  from  beneath  the  bed. 

"Uf  I  done  dot,  you  vos  a  fool!"  he  squealed. 
"I  vould  peen  in  dancher  uf  killin'  me  pefore  der 
mornings!  Shack  Tiamon',  you  haf  no  peesness  to 
done  notthing  like  dot!  Id  vos  an  imbosition  on  me, 
und  you  von't  stood  id!" 

So  Diamond  was  obliged  to  sleep  with  Bart,  but 
Hodge  did  not  create  any  further  disturbance.  The  re- 
mainder of  the  night  passed  quietly  enough. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

AN     EXPLOSION     COMING. 

When  Bart  and  Frank  presented  themselves  at  the 
police  court  on  the  following  day  to  testify  against 
Shiner  Gregg,  the  judge  took  them  into  a  private 
room  and  heard  the  story  they  had  to  tell,  after  which 
he  said: 

"I  am  going  to  hold  this  Gregg  a  day  or  two  for  a 
purpose  before  I  give  him  a  trial.  The  police  are  look- 
Ing  for  some  information  they  believed  the  prisoner 
could  give  them,  and  they  proposed  to  'put  on  the 
screws/ ' 

Frank  and  Bart  assured  the  judge  that  they  would 
remain  in  Philadelphia  four  days  and  could  be  found 
at  the  Continental  when  wanted.  Then  they  were  al- 
lowed to  depart. 

Immediately  after  lunch  Merriwell  started  for  Char- 
lie Creighton's,  feeling  a  strong  anxiety  to  know  how 
severely  Fanny  Darling  had  been  burned. 

As  for  Merriwell,  he  was  astonished  to  find  he  had 
not  been  seriously  injured  by  the  fire.  The  prompt 
attention  given  his  hands  by  the  doctor  had  saved 
them  from  blistering,  and,  although  they  were  red 
and  tender,  they  promised  to  be  all  right  in  a  day 
or  two.  He  had  them  done  up  again,  and  was  advised 
to  keep  the  air  from  them  as  much  as  possible  till 
the  following  day. 


An  Explosion  Coming.  307 

Creighton  and  his  sister  were  at  home,  and  they  wel- 
comed Frank  warmly. 

"I  called  at  the  Continental  this  forenoon  to  see 
you,"  said  Charlie;  "but  you  and  Hodge  were  out 
However,  the  fellows  told  me  your  hands  seemed  much 
better  than  you  had  expected  they  would  be." 

"Yes,"  nodded  Frank;  "they  seem  to  be  coming  out 
all  right.  The  stuff  the  doctor  put  on  them  appears  to 
have  worked  marvels." 

"I  am  so  glad!"  exclaimed  Mabel.  "It  seemed  ter- 
rible to  think  you  might  be  hurt  so  you  could  not  play 
football  this  fall,  for  Charlie  says  Yale  could  not  get 
along  without  you." 

"Creighton  is  too  kind!"  exclaimed  Frank.  "He 
overestimates  my  abilities.  But  I  wish  to  ask  about 
Miss  Darling.  Have  you  heard  from  her  to-day?" 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  her.  One  of  her  arms  is  quite 
severely  burned,  but  that  seems  to  be  all.  She  says  she 
will  be  all  right  in  two  or  three  days,  at  most." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that,  for  I  feared  her  burns 
might  be  more  severe  than  was  supposed  at  first.  I 
reached  her  as  soon  as  possible  after  she  screamed." 

"It's  amazing  to  me  that  you  reached  her  as  quickly 
as  you  did,"  declared  Charlie.  "Wallace  Hegner  was 
with  her,  and  he  did  not  find  an  opportunity  to  lift 
his  hand  to  help  her." 

"He  acted  like  a  coward !"  exclaimed  Mabel,  her  eyes 
flashing.  "He  retreated  from  her,  and  he  has  been 
rewarded  for  his  pusillanimous  act." 

"Rewarded — how  ?" 

"When  he  tried  to  see  her  last  evening  after  her 


308  An  Explosion  Coming. 

burns  had  been  attended,  she  refused  to  have  anything 
to  say  to  him,  and  she  says  she'll  never  speak  to  him 
again." 

"Well,"  said  Merry,  slowly,  "I  don't  know  but  tha' 
fire  was  a  good  thing  if  it  has  opened  her  eyes  to 
Hegner's  true  character." 

Creighton  flushed  and  looked  abashed,  whereupon 
Frank  quickly  cried: 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  old  man !  I  made  a  break  then, 
for  I  forgot  you  introduced  us." 

"It's  all  right,"  declared  Creighton;  "and  it  is  my 
place  to  beg  your  pardon  for  the  introduction;  but 
I  assure  you  that  I  did  not  dream  Hegner  was  the  fel- 
low he  has  since  proved  to  be.  If  I  had Well,  I 

scarcely  think  you  would  have  met  him  at  my  home, 
and  I  am  sure  you  will  not  see  him  here  again.  You 
have  done  considerable  to  show  him  up,  and — > — " 

"I  may  do  more." 

"More?    How?" 

"I  cannot  explain  just  now,  but  I  am  not  through 
with  Mr.  Hegner.  Yesterday  I  struck  him  with  a  box- 
ing glove.  The  next  time  I  strike  it  will  be  a  far  more 
severe  blow,  and  I  shall  not  use  my  hands." 

"That  sounds  queer  from  you,  Merriwell.  At  col- 
lege you  have  been  considered  altogether  too  kind  to 
your  enemies." 

"I  am  ready  to  be  easy  with  an  enemy  who  shows 
any  redeeming  features,  and  I  am  aware  that  a  fellow 
may  dislike  me  and  still  be  a  good  fellow  at  heart. 
Such  things  happen.  I  have  my  own  failings,  and  I 
believe  in  doing  by  others  as  I  would  that  they  should 


An  Explosion  Coming.  309 

do  by  me.  But  a  fellow  like  this  Hegner — well,  I 
doubt  if  he  has  a  single  redeeming  trait,  and  I  consider 
it  my  duty  to  expose  him  as  far  as  possible.  That's 
all." 

Mabel  was  regarding  Frank  admiringly,  and  she 
was  thinking  that  he  could  be  stern  and  unrelenting  if 
the  occasion  demanded,  although  he  was  naturally  gen- 
erous and  forgiving. 

After  a  little,  Merriwell  told  of  his  street  encounter 
of  the  previous  evening,  and  his  hearers  listened  with 
breathless  interest. 

"Great  Scott !"  cried  Charlie.  "You  must  have  had 
a  close  call!  And  you  think  the  object  was  not  rob- 
bery?" 

"I  am  sure  it  was  not." 

"Then  the  gang  must  have  attacked  you  with  the 
sole  object  of  doing  you  up." 

"That's  right." 

"And  you  think  you  know  one  of  them?" 

"Yes." 

"Who  was"  it?" 

"That  is  something  I  will  tell  you  later.  Shiner 
Gregg  may  be  induced  to  squeal.  Look  out  for  an 
explosion,  Creighton.  It  is  coming." 

Two  days  later,  while  walking  along  one  of  Phila- 
delphia's principal  streets,  Merriwell  noticed  a  fellow 
who  was  blocking  the  path  of  a  girl  with  his  person 
and  speaking  to  her  excitedly,  although  she  was  trying 
to  pass  to  reach  a  carriage  that  stood  at  the  curb. 

"It's  Hegner!"  muttered  Frank.     "A"-*  the  girl  is 


3io  An  Explosion  Coming. 

— Fanny  Darling!  She  is  trying  to  avoid  him,  and 
the  rascal  is Confound  him!" 

The  exclamation  escaped  Frank's  lips  as  he  saw 
Wallace  Hegner  grasp  the  girl  by  the  wrist,  lean  for- 
ward and  hiss  something  in  her  ear. 

Frank  made  a  spring,  and  as  he  came  forward,  Heg- 
ner happened  to  turn  his  head  slightly  and  see  him. 
The  girl  also  saw  him,  and  a  look  of  relief  came  over 
her  face. 

Hegner  scowled  blackly  and  hesitated,  then  he 
dropped  Fanny's  wrist  and  hurried  away. 

Merriwell  was  tempted  to  follow  him,  but  Fanny 
called  to  him,  and  he  stopped.  As  he  did  so,  lifting 
his  hat  with  a  graceful  movement  that  was  natural  for 
him,  her  face,  pale  a  moment  before,  grew  crimson. 

But  she  did  not  hesitate;  immediately  she  came  for- 
ward and  held  out  her  hand,  saying: 

"Mr.  Merriwell,  I  said  I  would  ask  your  pardon  on 
my  knees,  but  I  can't  do  it  here  in  the  street,  and  so 
perhaps  you  will  not  expect  it." 

"Well,  hardly!"  laughed  Frank.  "I  don't  know 
why  you  should  ask  my  pardon  at  all." 

"I  do!  I  ask  it  now,  Mr.  Merriwell!  You  were  a 
gentleman,  and  I  know  I  was  not  a  lady.  Oh,  I  have 
been  so  ashamed  of  myself  when  I  thought  it  all  over 
and  realized  what  sort  of  an  opinion  you  must  have 
formed  of  me!" 

"Miss  Darling!" 

"And  I  am  trying  to  leave  off  slang,  although  I  will 
make  a  break  occasionally — there.'  I  want  to  thank 


An  Explosion  Coming.  311 

you  for  the  heroic  manner  in  which  you  came  to  my 
rescue  when  my  clothes  were  on  fire." 

"I  am  afraid  you  make  too  much  of  that.  I  fail  to 
see  where  the  heroism  came  in." 

"That — that  fellow  you  just  drove  away  did  not 
make  a  move  to  help  me,  and  he  was  the  nearest  of  any- 
body !  I  don't  care,  it  was  heroic  of  you !" 

"All  right,"  smiled  Frank;  "if  you  are  determined 
to  have  it  that  way,  I'll  have  to  let  you  regard  me 
as  a  hero." 

She  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes,  and  softly  said : 

"I  do!" 

After  a  moment,  her  eyes  drooped  before  his  steady 
gaze,  and  he  saw  she  had  long  lashes  that  almost 
touched  her  cheeks. 

"Mr.  Merriwell." 

"Yes,  Miss  Darling." 

"I  am  afraid  it  may  seem  bold,  and  I  know  you  think 
me  far  too  forward  now " 

"No,  no— I  protest!" 

"I  can't  help  it  if  you  do  think  so.  I  can't  be  strictly 
conventional  at  all  times.  We  are  standing  in  the 
street,  where  we  must  attract  more  or  less  notice. 
There  is  my  carriage.  Will  you  ride  with  me?" 

"With  pleasure." 

The  footman  in  livery  held  open  the  door  for  them 
to  enter,  and  then  that  door  closed  behind  them.  The 
dignified  footman  ascended  to  his  seat,  and  the  coach- 
man started  up  the  horses.  The  closed  carriage  rolled 
away. 

For  some  moments  Frank  and  Fanny  were  silent; 


312  An  Explosion  Coming. 

both  seeming  embarrassed.  At  last,  he  asked  her  about 
the  burns  she  had  received,  and  they  chatted  in  a  com- 
monplace way  for  some  time. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "when  I  heard  you  scream 
that  night  and  saw  the  fire,  my  heart  nearly  leaped 
out  of  my  mouth.  I  was  afraid  I  could  not  reach  you 
in  time  to  keep  the  fire  from  your  face  and  neck." 

"What  if  you  hadn't!  I'm  not  a  raving  beauty 
now,  and  it  would  not  have  damaged  my  looks  very 
much." 

"Don't  say  that,  Miss  Darling !  It  would  have  been 
terrible!  And  you  are  pretty!  I  am  sincere!" 

She  gasped  for  breath. 

"Really — really,  Mr.  Merriwell!  It's  impossible! 
Why,  there  is  Mabel!" 

"I  know.  She  is  charming,  but  to  my  eyes,  you  are 
far  prettier.  Don't  think  I  am  trying  taffy,  for  I  give 
you  my  word,  Miss  Darling,  that  I  am  not." 

"Why,  I — I  thought  you  were  dead  stuck  on 
Mabel!"  cried  the  wondering  girl. 

"Not  that.  I  like  her,  and  she  has  treated  me  very 
nicely." 

"Yes,  far  better  than  I  have;  but  that  night,  after 
you  had  saved  me,  I  heard  the  doctor  say,  that  if  you 
did  not  save  my  life,  at  least  you  had  prevented  my 
frightful  disfigurement.  Oh,  you  will  never  know  the 
sensation  that  came  over  me  then!  Such  a  sense  of 
shame,  for  I  thought  how  I  had  treated  you.  But — 
but  I  want  to  tell  you  something  now,  Mr.  Merriwell. 
It  is  awfully  hard  for  me  to  say,  but  I  must  say  it. 
I  did  not  treat  you  that  way  because  I  disliked  you. 


An  Explosion  Coming.  313 

No!  no!  no!  It  was  for  just  the  other  reason.  I 
liked  you  too  well — there !  I  thought  you  did  not  care 
anything  for  me  and  was  all  taken  up  with  Mabel,  so 
I  tried  to  get  a  dab  at  you  every  time  I  could.  It  was 
mean — I  know  it!  I  didn't  expect  you  to  forgive  me, 
for  I  am  sure  I  did  not  deserve  it.  And  then,  after  all 
the  mean  things  I  had  done,  you  passed  all  those  near 
me  when  I  was  in  danger  and  saved  me !  I  could  have 
died  from  shame!" 

She  was  sobbing  now,  although  fighting  back  the 
tears.  He  did  his  best  to  soothe  her,  and  succeeded 
very  well. 

"I  think  we  understand  each  other  very  well  now," 
he  said. 

The  closed  carriage  rolled  on.  The  coachman  pulled 
down  the  horses  to  a  slower  pace,  as  if  he  knew  there 
was  no  need  to  hurry.  The  footman  sat  up  very 
straight,  with  folded  arms  and  solemn,  dignified  coun- 
tenance, as  if  such  a  thing  as  curiosity  had  never  en- 
tered his  heart,  and  he  had  no  thought  of  the  young 
couple  within  the  carriage. 

Yet,  they  understood  each  other  very  well  at  last. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE    LAST    BLOW CONCLUSION. 

The  gymnasium  of  the  Olympic  Athletic  Club  was 
crowded.  There  were  seats  all  around  the  room,  and 
a  roped-off  ring  in  the  center.  A  referee  and  two 
judges  had  been  chosen.  Hank  Burk's  second  was 
Wallace  Hegner,  his  trainer.  Tom  Jackson  had  a 
second  who  seemed  to  know  his  business. 

The  excitement  was  at  fever  heat,  for  the  great 
match  was  about  to  begin.  The  principals  came  out 
and  entered  the  ring,  accompanied  by  their  seconds. 
They  wore  bath  robes,  which  were  soon  flung  aside. 
Then  the  spectators  cheered  as  they  saw  the  two  lads 
stripped  to  the  waist. 

On  choice  by  lot  the  Olympic  had  secured  the  bout 
for  themselves;  but  the  guests  of  the  Fairmount  were 
admitted,  so  all  of  Frank  Merriwell's  friends  were 
there. 

But  Frank — where  was  he? 

"I  can't  understand  it,"  declared  Diamond.  "It  is 
most  remarkable  that  he  should  not  be  here.  I  didn't 
suppose  anything  could  keep  him  from  this  mill." 

Hodge  looked  worried. 

"He  will  be  here,"  Bart  declared.  "You  know  he 
has  promised  a  sensation,  but  I'm  afraid  he  failed  in 
securing  the  evidence  he  needs." 

Tang! — the  gong  sounded. 


The  Last  Blow— Conclusion.         315 

Burk  and  Jackson  advanced  to  shake  hands. 

Then  it  was  that  Frank  came  hustling  into  the  room, 
looking  flushed  but  triumphant.  Hurrying  to  the 
ringside,  he  turned  to  the  spectators  and  cried: 

"This  match  must  be  stopped  five  minutes!  I  have 
something  to  tell  you  before  it  goes  on!" 

There  was  a  murmur  of  astonishment  and  disap- 
proval. The  audience,  their  nerves  tingling  with  the 
desire  to  see  the  boxers  go  at  each  other,  were  angered 
by  the  interruption. 

"You  can  tell  it  afterward,"  cried  a  voice. 

"No!"  came  firmly  from  Frank.  "It  must  be  told 
now,  for  it  concerns  this  match.  I  know  you  all  want 
to  see  fair  play — with  a  very  few  exceptions.  I  tell 
you  now  that  there  is  a  job  here,  and  I  can  prove  it! 
This  match  is  fixed !" 

What  a  stir  that  created!  For  some  moments  it 
seemed  that  there  would  be  a  riot,  but  the  excited  spec- 
tators cooled  down  at  last,  although  a  dozen  voices  de« 
manded  the  proof. 

In  the  ring  Hank  Burk  and  Tom  Jackson  looked  at 
each  other  in  a  startled  way,  while  Wallace  Hegner's 
face  grew  pale. 

"What  does  he  know?"  asked  Burk  in  a  whisper. 

"He  can't  know  anything,"  said  Jackson.  "He  is 
putting  up  a  bluff." 

Hegner  found  his  voice  and  demanded  that  Merri- 
well  be  removed  from  the  room.  But  it  was  too  late, 
as  he  soon  saw,  for  the  young  fellows  who  had  heard 
his  assertion  were  eager  to  hear  more. 

"I  know  you  do  not  permit  betting,"  Frank  cried; 


316         The  Last  Blow — Conclusion 

"but  there  has  been  betting  on  this  match.  Large  sums 
of  money  have  been  staked  on  the  result,  but  a  most 
surprising  fact  is  that  the  principal  backer  of  Jack- 
son— the  one  who  has  furnished  most  of  the  money  bet 
on  him  is  the  trainer  of  Burk,  Mr.  Wallace  Hegner!" 

Hegner  gave  a  howl  and  made  a  rush  for  Frank, 
but  Bruce  Browning  was  on  hand  and  interposed  his 
massive  form,  grasping  the  furious  lad  by  the  collar 
and  holding  him  helpless. 

"I  will  tell  you  how  I  know  this,"  Frank  went  on, 
speaking  swiftly.  "This  Hegner  has  a  grudge  against 
me,  and,  with  several  of  his  friends,  a  gang  of  thugs, 
he  attacked  me  the  other  night.  In  the  fight  I  secured 
a  handkerchief  marked  with  his  initials,  and  he  came 
very  near  getting  a  knife  into  me.  One  of  the  gang 
was  captured,  a  fellow  known  as  Shiner  Gregg.  The 
police  have  been  wanting  to  get  hold  of  Gregg  for 
some  time,  and  when  he  fell  into  their  hands  they  'put 
on  the  screws.'  As  a  result  of  the  squeezing  the  fel- 
low has  confessed  everything.  He  told  how  Mr.  Heg- 
ner obtained  his  money  to  stake  on  this  crooked  match. 
Two  weeks  ago  the  jewelry  store  of  Isaac  Rosenfeld 
was  entered  and  robbed.  Gregg  says  Hegner  planned 
the  robbery  and  was  one  of  the  four  concerned  in  it." 

"It's  a  lie — a  downright  lie!"  screamed  Hegner, 
struggling  to  reach  Frank.  "Let  me  get  at  him!  I 
will  kill  him!" 

"It  is  the  confession  of  Shiner  Gregg,"  said  Frank. 
"He  says  this  match  was  fixed — that  Jackson  would 
win,  and  Burk  would  receive  good  pay  for  flunking. 
Here  is  the  proof  that  I  have  spoken  the  truth." 


The  Last  Blow— Conclusion.         317 

He  whistled,  and  into  the  room  came  six  uniformed 
policemen.  They  quickly  reached  the  ring,  and  Heg- 
ner,  who  had  fought  like  a  tiger  to  break  from  Brown- 
ing, was  collared,  handcuffed  and  taken  in  charge. 

By  this  time,  in  some  mysterious  manner,  Burk  and 
Jackson  had  disappeared.  The  spectators  were  furious. 
They  talked  of  tar  and  feathers. 

Wallace  Hegner,  limp,  white  and  crushed,  was 
marched  away  between  the  officers.  As  he  passed  Mer- 
riwell  he  lifted  his  eyes,  but  they  fell  instantly,  and 
his  appearance  was  that  of  a  whipped  cur. 

Frank's  second  blow  had  been  a  knockout 


Hegner  was  held  for  the  Grand  Jury,  tried  and  con- 
victed, for  overwhelming  evidence  against  him  was 
obtained.  As  it  seemed  to  have  been  his  first  offense, 
he  was  given  a  comparatively  light  sentence. 

Frank  pitied  the  fellow  at  last,  for  all  the  heart  and 
life  seemed  gone  out  of  him.  Never  before  had  Frank 
struck  an  enemy  such  a  blow  as  that. 

Burk  and  Jackson  escaped  from  the  Olympic  with  a 
portion  of  their  clothes,  and  they  took  care  to  keep  in 
hiding  for  a  long  time  after  that. 

It  was  suspected  that  the  judge  had  been  tampered 
with,  but  this  was  never  proved.  That  several  of  the 
Olympic  men  knew  all  about  the  game  was  certain,  but 
Jackson  and  one  other  were  the  only  ones  expelled  from 
the  club. 

Before  leaving  Philadelphia  Frank  Merriwell  and 
his  party  attended  a  banquet  given  in  their  honor  by 


5i8        The  Last  Blow— Conclusion. 

the  Fairmount  Club.  It  was  a  jolly  affair,  for  young 
lady  guests  were  present  and  everything  passed  off 
finely. 

There  were  speeches  and  toasts,  and  the  mention  of 
Merriwell's  name  always  brought  a  tumultuous  burst 
of  applause. 

A  gay  time  was  had  for  two  days  more  in  Phila- 
delphia, their  new-found  friends  doing  everything  pos- 
sible to  make  the  visit  a  pleasant  one. 

From  the  South  came  news  that  Harlow  had  escaped 
from  jail  by  striking  down  a  keeper.  But  he  had  been 
hit  in  the  head  with  a  club  later  on,  and  was  now  in  the 
hospital. 

"He  won't  come  to  trial  just  yet,"  said  Frank. 
"And  perhaps  it  is  just  as  well." 

"And  now  for  Yale!"  cried  Jack.  "Hurrah  for 
old  Eli!" 

"So  say  we  all  of  us!"  shouted  Harry. 

And  then  a  roar  went  up  in  which  all  of  their  new- 
found friends  joined: 

"Hurrah  for  old  Eli!  Hurrah  for  the  brave  boys 
of  the  Yale  Combine!" 


THE    EKD. 


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for  a  boy  to  indulge  in  petty  vices  to  be  a  hero.  Frank 
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Frank  Merriwell's  School  Days  Frank  Merriwell's  Skill 

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Frank  Merriwell's  Trip  West  Frank  Merriwell's  Secret 

Frank  Merriwell  Down  South  Frank  MerriwelPs  Loyalty 

Frank  Merriwell's  Bravery  Frank  Merriwell's  Reward 

Frank  Merriwell's  Races  Frank  Merriwell's  Faith 

Frank  Merriwell's  Hunting  Tour  Frank  Merriwell's  Victories 

Frank  Merriwell's  Sports  Afield  Frank  Merriwell's  Power 

Frank  Merriwell  at  Yale  Frank  Merriwell's  Set-Back 

Frank  Merriwell's  Courage  Frank  Merriwell's  False  Friend 

Frank  Merriwell's  Daring  Frank  Merriwell's  Brother 

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